


Entanglement

by blankfish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Romance, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Romance, F/M, Forced Marriage, Horcrux Hunting, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Romance, Secret Marriage, Slow Build, Slow Burn, War Era, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2019-11-26 15:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 64,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18182510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankfish/pseuds/blankfish
Summary: “Your loyalties begin and end with me now, Granger, or have you forgotten?” he spat bitterly.At the request of the Order, Hermione Granger marries Draco Malfoy, a man she’d only ever known as her enemy. This decision leads her on a winding path of tumultuous consequences that even she could not have predicted. Dramione War AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! My Dramione War-era AU that I've been hinting about for a while now. The fic is a War-era, although it starts out by following canon events halfway through sixth year and diverges in the summer. I hope to update this fic as regularly as A Contract Most Inconvenient until it is finished, but, as we all know, real life does get in the way sometimes. Nevertheless, if there is going to be a delay in posting, I will put an announcement up on social media (at the very least).
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: This is a forced marriage fic, and the marriage/consummation takes place in this chapter. While Hermione technically consents to doing so, she is not exactly enthusiastic about it and it is quite upsetting for her. As a result, I'm inserting a dubcon warning for the consummation scene here. This chapter is still readable without it, and there is a scene jump before it occurs - if you do want to skip it, simply skip the final scene. Otherwise, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own no part of the HP franchise. It all belongs to JKR and Warner Bros. I am merely playing in the beautiful sandbox she's created. 
> 
> Thank you to RESimon for beta-ing - you're amazing.

**CHAPTER ONE**

As Hermione Granger ascended the stone steps leading up to Dumbledore's office, she felt an anxious ache bubbling in her chest, propelling forward her mounting trepidation. Her footsteps echoed in the quiet stairwell, and the ascent felt longer than it had the previous times she'd been up there. She had, after all, never been summoned at this time of night, and never with a letter as mysterious as the one she'd received. It was true that Dumbledore himself was a man of mystery, but even this stretched beyond the bounds of actions she'd come to expect from him.

When she finally reached the top of the steps, she swallowed nervously and raised a hand to give the door a tentative knock. Before she could touch it, however, it swung open of its own accord.

"Come in, Miss Granger," Dumbledore sat at his large, ornate desk across from her. "We've been expecting you."

At that, she stepped into the large, circular room, looking about nervously as she observed the fact that they were very much indeed not alone. The room was all the more imposing at night, a mass of sprawling bookshelves and stern-looking portraits that followed her every movement. On this night, however, the room was made all the more imposing by its occupants. Professor McGonagall flanked Dumbledore on one side, her mouth twisted downward in a slight frown, although she gave Hermione a small smile when she met her eyes. On Dumbledore's other side stood Kingsley Shacklebolt, looking as imposing as ever in his Auror robes. He gave her a small nod, and she gave him a tentative smile back. Professor Severus Snape stood behind them, his expression as dark and brooding as ever.

"Do have a seat, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, gesturing toward one of the high-backed chairs in front of his desk. As she moved to sit, she started, realizing that the other two seats in front of Dumbledore's desk were already occupied.

None other than Draco Malfoy sat in one of the plush armchairs, his ever-present scowl twisting his features. Moonlight drifted through the tall windows around them, giving his blond hair an almost ethereal glow, a direct contrast to what she knew of his brooding personality. In the chair next to him sat a middle-aged woman with platinum hair in the same shade as Draco's. She was not scowling as deeply as him, but a slight frown lingered on her features as she quietly appraised Hermione.

"You are familiar with Mr. Shacklebolt, I'm certain," Dumbledore said, and she nodded at Kingsley, who gave her a small smile in return. "And allow me to introduce our other guest, Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy," he added, gesturing at the woman.

Hermione turned to give the woman a stiff nod, avoiding looking at Malfoy. "Hello," she said, her voice feeling overly loud in the room.

The woman did not answer, but instead gave her a sharp nod in return.

"You may be quite confused as to why I've requested your presence here this evening," Dumbledore asked.

Hermione nodded, again taking in the expressions on the faces of those that stood behind him. Whatever it was, she knew that it was serious.

"As you are aware, those who stand behind me are all esteemed members of the Order," Dumbledore continued, giving her a gentle smile. "As you are now of age, it is my hope that you still have an interest in officially joining the Order as well," he said.

"Of course," she said, the words coming out instantly.

Dumbledore nodded, an emotion passing through his eyes that she couldn't quite establish. "Then you are also aware that there are many sacrifices that have made over the years, to great difficulty in our personal lives."

Hermione nodded again, feeling a coil of trepidation begin to curl around her heart, clenching it softly. "I am," she answered carefully.

He nodded before steepling his fingers in front of him and peering over his spectacles at her. "And how far would you be willing to go in the name of the Order, Miss Granger?"

Later, she would ask herself what would have happened if she'd paused for a moment, taken time to let the words sink in and answered with a tremble of uncertainty in her voice. Would they have stopped to reconsider their request, re-convened and picked someone,  _anyone_  else that could have stepped in in her place?

But instead, her answer was simple: "I would do anything," she replied, her voice unwaveringly honest.

Dumbledore sighed, eyes sliding to where the Malfoys sat for a moment before landing back on her own. "You understand, then, that what I am about to ask of you may test those boundaries." He waited patiently for her to respond, and she stared back, steeling her resolve even as the growing tendrils of trepidation within her continued to clench her heart.

"With all due respect, sir, I am certain that you would not have summoned me here if you did not believe I would be capable of taking on whatever task you have decided to present me with," she said, meeting his eyes and forcing herself not to peek over at the Malfoys once more.

Dumbledore searched her eyes for a moment before nodding nearly imperceptibly. "What do you know, Miss Granger, of ancient marriage bonding ceremonies?"

She blinked at him for a moment before responding. "There were many kinds, most of which involved binding the life forces of the couple involved," she answered, her voice laced with confusion. "They fell out of practice centuries ago when couples kept dying after the untimely death of one spouse, leaving many orphaned children behind," she trailed off as she saw the frown on Professor McGonagall's face deepen. "But what does that have to do-"

"You do recall, I presume, Professor Snape's current position as a double agent for the Order?" Dumbledore asked, cutting her off.

She nodded, looking up briefly at the brooding man. He had barely moved since she'd entered and appeared to be in a particularly dark mood on this evening.

"Yes," she answered, her throat feeling dry as she peeked up at the dark-haired man again, her head swirling with the potential implications of the Headmaster's words. Surely he couldn't expect her to-

"His position with the Death Eaters is very precarious, as you may imagine," Dumbledore continued. "Should Voldemort suspect his being too close with the Order, his position could be terminated at any time." The implications of his words hung thick in the air, and she looked up at the man again as her heart clenched for him, wondering how he had managed to take on such a precarious task.

"I presume that you are also, aware, then, of the Malfoys'...entanglements with Lord Voldemort," he asked, peering over at her once more. At this, Hermione stole a glance over at the Malfoys once again. Malfoy's eyes were firmly trained on his lap, while his mother's icy blue eyes were trained on her. Hermione felt trapped in the woman's probing gaze and only tore away from them when Dumbledore continued speaking.

"Mrs. Malfoy has asked Severus to take an Unbreakable Vow to ensure the protection of her son in the future as Voldemort attempts to bring his plans to fruition. As you may imagine, however, given the precarious nature of Severus' position within the Death Eater ranks, his ability to guarantee that he can uphold such a Vow may not be feasible in the long term. After discussing the options at length with Mrs. Malfoy, she has agreed to take a Vow to bind herself as a spy for the Order, provided that we provide a substitution that demonstrates our commitment to Draco's safety," he explained. "And this is where you may be of assistance," he said, pausing to watch her carefully.

His words swirled in her head for a moment as she took them in. Snape, Mrs. Malfoy... Malfoy. Her eyes widened as she turned to look at him. She swung her eyes back to Dumbledore, then again to Malfoy, whose eyes remained trained on his lap, studiously avoiding the gazes of all the people in the room.

Her heart thundered in her chest as the implication of Dumbledore's words sank deeper into her conscious, weighing down upon her chest. She lifted a hand to grasp her chest, feeling a swell of panic rising within her as the realization of what she'd been called to do swirled within her. Draco Malfoy. Ancient marriage bonding ceremonies. Herself.

Dumbledore started speaking again, but his words were lost to her as her world was reduced to little more than the whooshing sound of her rapidly pumping blood in her ears as panic rose within her. For the Order, she was being asked to inextricably bind herself to Draco Malfoy. She looked at him again, taking in the rigid set of his stance, the muscles of his exposed forearms straining as he gripped hard at the armrests of his chair. It was true that they'd barely interacted this school year so far, and she'd spent most of it trying to dissuade Harry from accusing him of nefarious behavior. Nonetheless, the Draco Malfoy she knew was cold and cruel, often resorting to underhanded tactics to ridicule his classmates.

Her eyes strayed to Mrs. Malfoy, who's own icy blue eyes were once again upon her. They were hard, but not unkind, and an unreadable emotion passed through them as she watched Hermione. She had come to the Order out of desperation to secure the safety of her son, and she was doing it at her own peril by offering intel to the Order throughout the duration of the impending war. She searched the woman's eyes, probing deeper until she saw the inkling of fear and desperation that lingered there.

What could she do to protect the Order? Could she give up her life for them? The second the question passed through her mind, however, she knew the answer. If she did not fight with the Order - for the Order - there was a slim chance that she would have a life past the impending war. Even now, each day she woke with fear clenching in her heart as she realized that the war was looming closer with each minute that passed, and there was no guarantee that she would survive it. Her life was already bound to the cause, whether they won or lost.

"I'll do it," she whispered.

The room was dead silent following her words, an eerie stillness in the air as her words cemented the life-altering agreement.

Eventually, Dumbledore broke the silence. "You may, in time, be able to pursue a relationship outside of what you will have with Mr. Malfoy-"

"I won't," she said tonelessly. "I'll be bound to him, and unable to truly be intimate with anyone but him. You do not have to sugarcoat it for me."

He searched her eyes for a moment. "Very well then," he said finally. "Once you are bound, the Trace will effectively be removed from Mr. Malfoy and he will be considered an adult in the eyes of the law. You and Mr. Malfoy will need to go into hiding once the school year terminates, of course," he explained, still watching her expression. She kept her face carefully blank, knowing that their union was inextricable and that this was one of the many consequences she would carry.

"You understand that the terms of this union cannot be revealed to any of your classmates," he added, his voice gentler. "Nor your parents. It may place them in a potentially hazardous position if they know. You can ensure the knowledge of this arrangement will not leave the ears of this room's occupants."

Her heart thumped painfully as she thought of Ron and Harry, but she quickly shoved the emotions down and nodded. "I understand," she said, hoping that no one else had detected the tremble in her voice.

"We will do it now, then, should you have no objections," Dumbledore said.

She had many, but remained silent, knowing that her objections mattered little in the face of the daunting tasks which lay in front of the Order - and Harry - in the very near future. No,  _this_  she could do, her fleeting desires for her own future be damned.

Snape crossed around the desk, stepping over to where Hermione saw that a bonding circle had already been drawn on the floor. He began muttering a series of enchantments, and she watched as the circle began glowing a deep, ominous black.

She stood straight, ardently ignoring where Malfoy stood beside her, watching Snape. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned, surprised to see McGonagall behind her, squeezing her shoulder gently. She met the older woman's eyes, and saw melancholy reflected in them. At that, she felt tears spring to her eyes, knowing that she would be losing the innocence that she hadn't known she'd been clinging so desperately to until this night.

"You may enter the circle, child," McGonagall said gently, urging her forward. She forced herself to tear her eyes away from the woman's gaze, and stepped into the circle.

She looked up to meet Malfoy's stormy grey eyes, and immediately shrank back at the resentment that shone within them. It was nearly overwhelming in its force. She felt so trapped in his gaze that she barely registered Snape speaking to her until he repeated his words.

When she looked at him, he too was glaring at her, but the force of his glare that she'd always thought was so terrifying felt inconsequential under Malfoy's. "Yes?" she said, her voice little more than a squeak.

"Your hand," Snape clipped. She handed him her left hand, then let out a small cry as he immediately drew a sharp-edged knife across it, leaving a dark trail of blood in its wake. He lifted her hand and squeezed it over a chalice in his hand, and watched as he repeated the same for Malfoy. He muttered more low words in Latin, and she watched as the chalice bubbled until it became a swirling dark liquid.

"Drink," he commanded, pressing it to her lips. She wanted to mash her lips shut and run screaming from the room, but instead she swallowed obediently.

After Malfoy swallowed as well, the ceremony passed relatively quickly. Snape told them a series of phrases to repeat, all while twisting his wand around them in sharp, intricate movements.

"You may now seal the bond," Snape said eventually, stepping back.

She'd turned to look at him in question when Malfoy suddenly grabbed her by the chin, dragging his lips across hers in a mockery of a kiss. For that split second of a moment, the circle ignited in flames around them. By the time Malfoy stepped back, both the flames and the circle had disappeared.

"It is finished," Snape said, turning and quickly exiting the room.

She turned to see that Mrs. Malfoy had approached them. She handed Hermione a thick ring made of platinum that was a snake eating its own tail. It was studded with diamonds, save for the snake's eyes that were made of emeralds.

"You must place it on his finger," she explained, gesturing to Draco. Hermione turned to him, swallowing as she picked up his hand wordlessly. When she made to slide the ring down his finger, she jumped back slightly as the snake unfurled itself and slithered down his finger, re-forming once it reached the base.

He grabbed her hand then, brandishing a similarly snake-like ring, but this one was more clearly designed to be worn by a woman. It unfurled itself, leaving a cool trail behind as it slithered down her finger, re-forming its snakehead as a large diamond flanked by two emerald eyes.

"They are the Malfoy family rings," Narcissa explained when Hermione met her eyes. "I had replicas made, so Lucius will not notice." She appraised Hermione for a moment longer, silent and calculating. Eventually, she gave her a sharp nod, turning to Dumbledore.

"We must do the Vow now. I need to return to the Manor and glamour the family tapestry before Lucius takes notice."

Dumbledore nodded, then turned to them. "The union must now be consummated," he said, his voice gentler than before. "The Room of Requirement is best suited to your needs on this night," he finished.

Hermione nodded, knowing she would have been unable to speak over the lump that had risen in her throat at his words.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," Dumbledore called again, and she froze at the sound of her new name. "Do practice your Occlumency," he said finally. "You will need strong shields to endure what is to come."

She looked beyond him, nodding at Kingsley and McGonagall, who nodded back solemnly. The last thing she saw as she stepped through the door was Mrs. Malfoy stepping up beside Kingsley as Dumbledore began reciting the oaths of their vow, sealing their collective fate.

**X**

The trip to the Room of Requirement was near silent, and Malfoy strode quickly ahead of her as she trailed behind him, her heart thumping loudly in her chest as they rapidly approached their destination. All too soon, Malfoy was pacing quickly in front of the large stone wall, his form as rigid as ever as he made the calculated steps. A door appeared, and he stepped through, not bothering to check if she was following. It was simply decorated inside, containing only a simply made bed, a small fireplace, and a door on the far end of the room that presumably contained a loo. It was dim, lit only by a few candles, seeming as keen to hide her shame as she was. The door snapped shut behind her, plunging them into near-silence, save for the crackle of the fire.

She crossed quickly to the bed and sat on the edge, twirling her fingers nervously as she waited for Malfoy to approach. When she felt his shadow looming over her, she looked up to see him unbuttoning his shirt, defined muscle peeking through where he'd already unbuttoned. Even she could admit that he'd grown to be strikingly handsome, his features sharp with masculine beauty as opposed to the pointiness of his childhood. He no longer wore his hair slicked back, and it fell loosely around his face, its length tickling his ears. It was a cruel beauty, she decided, and in this moment of vulnerability, it terrified her.

He froze when she placed a hand over his, stilling his movements. "Don't," she gestured at his shirt. "Just...only what is necessary," she explained quietly.

He nodded, moving to undo his trousers. "Have you…before?" his voice was hard and gruff, and she realized that they were the first words she'd heard him speak this evening outside of their vows.

"Yes," she answered softly, raising her hips so that she could shimmy off her knickers. She slid back on the bed until her head rested on a pillow, keeping her eyes firmly trained on the ceiling.

A few moments later, she felt the bed dip under his weight. He moved until he was settled over her, bracing on his elbows. She bunched up her skirt to her waist, shivering at the feeling of her pussy being exposed to the warmth of the room, which contrasted sharply against how cold her interactions with Malfoy felt. He shoved two lubrication charm-slickened fingers inside her in a stuttered movement, and all too soon she felt the head of his cock tickling her entrance. He shoved inside in one hard thrust and began pumping steadily over her. He was thick, enough so that she could not help the small gasp that tumbled from her mouth even as she tried to focus on anything but the man that moved above her.

Within minutes, she felt his movements begin to stutter as he pumped himself into her, letting out a small grunt as he finished. He rolled off of her, panting softly as he lay beside her. Without looking at him, she stood, pulling on her knickers. She tore out of the room, leaving her new husband sated and alone while she fought back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks as she all but flew back to Gryffindor Tower.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to RESimon for being such an amazing beta.

**CHAPTER TWO**

The high windows of the Hogwarts library showcased a mesmerizing array of glittering stars over the grounds. A few tables away, a group of fourth years giggled to each other as they pointed out different constellations, drawing them out with their wands in the air between them. Neither Harry nor Hermione paid the view any mind, however. They both had an array of books open in front of them, although the amount Hermione had in front of her dwarfed those that Harry had. She'd roped him into her research on Horcruxes, still to no avail. Malfoy sat alone a few tables away, and she'd barely been able to take her eyes off of him. He'd been hunched over a book for the better part of the hour that they'd been there, ignoring her as studiously as he had before they'd been bonded. It had scarcely been twenty-four hours, and Hermione was still reeling at the sudden swerve in the trajectory of her life, wondering how she had gone from one-third of the Golden Trio to married to one of Harry's most loathed rivals overnight.

A life for a life. Narcissa Malfoy had traded her loyalty for the guaranteed protection of her son, by way of tethering his life to hers. She was Harry Potter's best friend - the Order would do their utmost to protect her, even if just for Harry's sake. She swallowed as she looked up at her husband once more, taking in the angry set of his features. Forever seemed to stretch impossibly far ahead of her as she pictured her life tethered to this man who so clearly despised her.

"...need to find out more," Harry said, looking up at her expectantly. "Hermione?" he prodded after a moment, forcing her to tear her eyes away from Malfoy to look at Harry.

"What?" she asked, blinking at him.

"Did you notice anything?" he asked, slowly. "You've been watching him like a hawk for nearly fifteen minutes," he added.

"No," she said. "Nothing."

"There must be something, I know he cursed that necklace and he's probably planning his next move as we speak," Harry said, narrowing his eyes at Malfoy. "Haven't you noticed anything out the ordinary?"

 _Yes. He married me,_ she wanted to say.  _We got married and I had sex with him just last night -_ "No," she said instead, sighing. Her glamoured ring felt heavy on her finger, and it shone to her like a beacon although no one could see it.

"I watched him today, on the map," he said, and her blood ran cold. She'd forgotten about the Marauder's Map last night. "He keeps disappearing, and I can't figure out how. Where do you think he's been getting off to?"

She searched his eyes carefully, looking for any hint of guarded suspicion glinting behind his eyes.

But there was nothing, and he continued chattering away, oblivious to her panic. "I have to figure out which parts of the map are missing- perhaps it's a defect. And I need to know what's in that book. The cover's blank, did you notice? It probably has more curses in it," he added darkly.

She sighed, partially in relief and partially in exasperation at her best friend's fixation. "Maybe he didn't curse the necklace-"

"And maybe that book he's reading has something on Horcruxes in it, and you've been so busy trying to convince me that he's done nothing wrong that you've been too blind to see it," he said in an angry whisper.

"I highly doubt that, Harry," she deadpanned. "I've been through nearly everything, including half of the restricted section, and I have yet to find even a hint of the subject. Yet you think that Malfoy would have a book on them, right out in the open?"

"Yes."

"Harry," she said, reaching for his hand and frowning when he snatched it away. "You're letting your paranoia get to you, Malfoy hasn't actually done anything of concern yet, not that we can confirm at least-"

Harry took in a sharp breath, glaring at her. "You might not believe me, but I know he did it," he snapped.

"I've always been on your side, Harry," she said. "You know I have. It's just that maybe this time, you're not-"

"I'm not  _what_ , Hermione?" he asked, his voice sharp as he glared at her.

"Maybe you've been focusing on the wrong person, is all," she said, hoping her tone was gentle enough the placate him.

But no, this was Harry Potter, and his temper got the best of him more often than not. He shoved his chair back loudly causing a few curious glances to stray their way. "And maybe you have been in denial for too long," he snapped, snatching up his books and departing the library in an angry huff.

She sighed, directing her books into her bag with a flick of her wand as she stood to leave herself. When she glanced at Malfoy again, she froze, noticing that he was looking back at her, his eyes as dark and Stormy as ever.

She swallowed, ducking her head as she passed by his table on her way out, dropping a note in his lap as surreptitiously as possible before scurrying out of the library.

**X**

She'd been waiting in the Room of Requirement for only a few minutes when Malfoy burst into the room, advancing on her until she was nearly perched on the edge of the lone sofa that the room had provided.

"Do not mistake our new affiliation as giving you free reign to summon me as you please, Granger," he seethed down at her.

"Don't you mean  _Malfoy_?" she snapped back, crossing her arms.

"You are nothing to me, mudblood," he spat, still glaring at her.

"And I don't care," she snapped back, stepping away from him. "Give me your ring."

"Why?"

"Because in case you have not noticed, we will need a way to communicate when necessary, whether you like it or not," she snapped. "Unless you would prefer your esteemed housemates catch you conversing with a  _mudblood_?"

He glared at her for a moment longer before pulling off his ring and dropping it in her outstretched palm. She deposited her ring beside his, then murmured a quick charm and tapped them with her wand. "The enchantments on the rings are somewhat complex and I don't understand them completely, but I was able to overlay them with a simple protean charm. I assume you know how it works?"

Malfoy scoffed, taking his ring back and making for the door.

"Malfoy," she called, and he paused. "Harry...he's suspicious of you," she said.

Malfoy scoffed again. "I can handle Potter," he spat, turning to glare at her once more.

"I'm serious, Malfoy," she said. "He...he has a way of watching you, and he knows that you've been disappearing to do...something. I don't-"

"As I said - Potter does not worry me," he said, moving to exit the room.

"What have you been up to, Malfoy?" she asked quietly. He did not turn this time, but his shoulders tensed slightly.

"Nothing of your concern," he spat, exiting the room and letting the door slam behind him.

**X**

A few nights later, Hermione was in the Gryffindor common room thumbing through yet another book in hopes of finding a mention of Horcruxes when her ring began to burn, causing her to drop it suddenly.

"You alright?" Neville asked, looking up at her in concern. Even Lavender glanced up curiously from where she was charming her toenails into different colors across from where Hermione and Neville sat.

"M'fine," she said, clamping a hand over her burning ring. As she stuffed her book into her bag, she slipped it off and let it fall inside, pretending to rifle through its contents as she read the message.  _RoR. Now,_ it read.

She mumbled a quick excuse about going to the library, tearing out the portrait hole and breaking into a run. When she made it to the seventh-floor corridor, she froze when she saw the look on Malfoy's face. He looked...stressed. A pale hand worried through his white-blond hair, and his appearance was bedraggled. He was pacing in front of the entrance to the Room of Requirement anxiously, although no door appeared.

"Malfoy?" she asked as she approached. "What's happened?"

His eyes snapped to her as she approached. "I need you to find Slughorn - now," he said.

"Wha-why?" she asked, thoroughly confused at the frazzled look on his face.

"He confiscated a bottle of mead from me while I was on my way here, and I need you to get it back," he said.

Hermione scoffed. "You want me to retrieve your alcohol, Malfoy? Kindly p-" she stopped short as he grabbed her shoulders, gripping them hard.

"Get it back," he seethed, glaring at her with a dark intensity. "It is critical."

She shook him off, although the retort she had prepared died on her lips as she searched his eyes, seeing the fear that lingered there. "What did you do, Malfoy?" she asked, softly searching his eyes.

His eyes hardened before he looked away. "Just get it back, Granger. Now."

She appraised him for a moment longer before nodding and heading back the way she had come. The urgency in his voice haunted her movements until she found herself running through the halls, praying that she would not be stopped by any Professors.

By the time she made it to Slughorn's office, she was panting with exertion. She rapped hard at the door, fumbling for an excuse as she heard the sounds of shuffling inside.

She blinked when Harry, and not Slughorn opened the door instead. "Harry?" she said incredulously.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, peering past her into the empty hallway.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, peeking into the room past Harry.

"Ron...Ron's uh, had a bit of an accident," he said, scratching his head.

"What kind of an  _accident_?" she said sharply, craning her neck to see deeper into the room. She caught movement behind Harry but could see no more past his tall frame.

"Romilda Vane?" Harry offered sheepishly.

"What about Romilda?" Hermione said, crossing her arms. "I told you to watch out for her, Harry, she's planning something-"

"We're a bit past that now, I think," Harry said. "She left me some chocolates, and he thought they were a birthday gift…"

Hermione gasped. "She didn't-?"

Harry nodded sheepishly. "Don't worry though, I brought him down to Slughorn straightaway," Harry explained. "He's alright now."

"I am going to hex that girl-"

"Relax, Hermione," Harry chuckled. "He's fine-"

"Well hello there Miss Granger," Slughorn said, appearing behind Harry. "What can I do for you this evening?"

"I, uh," she stumbled. "I had an important question about Potions that I was hoping you could help me with-"

The portly man chuckled, giving her a clap on the shoulder. "Ever so studious, aren't you?" he said. "Never mind that now though, we've got some conversations among men to be had on this night," he said, giving Harry a sly wink. "We can have a chat tomorrow, perhaps?" he said, already turning away.

"Wait!" she called desperately, forcing down her indignation at the man's flippant words and casual sexism. "It's important," she rushed as he paused to look back at her.

"Surely it cannot be so important that it can't wait until morning, my dear," Slughorn said. "You may call on Professor Snape if need be, however. Come along, Mr. Potter," he said, closing the door behind them.

She sighed, turning to leave before she paused, recalling the look she'd seen in Malfoy's eyes. She started pacing outside the door as she weighed her options, cursing the man and his damned bottle of mead. She'd raised her hand to knock for a second time when she heard a crash inside the room, followed by fearful shouts. She tried the doorknob, sighing in relief when it opened easily.

When she stepped into the room, however, her determined expression dissolved into one of horror. Ron lay on the floor, convulsing slightly as something bubbled out of his mouth. Slughorn was frozen in horror, while Harry was rummaging through a cabinet across the room. Harry sprang up suddenly, racing over to Ron and shoving something into his mouth at the same time that Hermione found her voice and screamed. This startled the room's occupants, who all turned to gape at her. Save Ron, of course, who lay still on the floor, unmoving.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta, RESimon - you're the best.

**CHAPTER THREE**

By the time they made it to the Hospital Wing, tears had begun to pour from Hermione's eyes, blurring her vision as she hovered around Ron's bed, watching Madam Pomfrey work. When the woman had suggested that she return to Gryffindor Tower, she'd snapped at her until she'd given up, leaving her alone with Ron's slumbering form after even Harry had been coaxed into going up to bed.

It was now early morning, but she still sat beside the bed, holding his hand as he breathed softly, his breaths still too shallow for her liking. Although the room was nearly still, her mind was reeling. Earlier, she'd fallen into a brief, fitful sleep, haunted by the look on Malfoy's face as he'd asked her to retrieve the mead, followed by flashes of Ron's convulsing body until she'd awoken, heaving ragged breaths. She'd barely made it to the nearest rubbish bin before she was heaving into it, emptying the meager contents of her stomach.

Harry had been right. He had been right the entire time, and she'd brushed it off, boiling it down to Harry's own paranoia as she convinced herself that while Malfoy was a bully, yes, he was no murderer. And now...now the evidence of all that Harry had feared lay in front of her, it's harsh truth laid bare by the soft rays of morning sunlight that illuminated Ron's now-ghostly pallor. She choked out a sob, burying her face into Ron's shoulder as she began crying again, reeling under the gravity of her actions. How could she face him now, knowing that she was now inextricably entangled with the man that had nearly caused his death?

She reached up to smooth a hand over Ron's cheek, pulling back when she heard him groan, shifting awkwardly in the bed. She pulled back and stood, making to leave before he could spot her when she heard him call her name.

"'Mione?" his voice was weak and raspy, and she hurriedly tipped the glass of water by his bed to his mouth, letting him drink.

"What happened?" he asked, looking around the hospital wing. "I can't remember…" he said, furrowing his brow.

"You were poisoned," she said, searching his blue eyes. "Twice, actually."

"Wha-how?" he asked.

"You ate chocolates that were laced with a love potion," she explained. "Courtesy of Romilda Vane," she added bitterly.

Even in his state, he grinned slightly at her expression. "And...the second?" he asked nervously, still watching her.

She turned away, unable to look into his eyes. "When Harry took you to Slughorn for an antidote, you ended up drinking some poisoned mead," she explained quietly.

"Don't be sad, 'Mione," he said, sitting up straighter. "It wasn't your fault." She shivered at the comforting hand he placed on her back, wanting to shy away from his touch.

 _Oh, but how it was_. "I know," she whispered instead. "Still...I was scared," she said, her voice breaking.

"Oh," he said, tugging on her sleeve until he pulled her down into a hug.

She sobbed quietly into his shoulder for a few moments before pulling away. "I'm supposed to be here comforting  _you_ ," she said, giving him a watery smile.

He waved a weak hand dismissively. "It's alright," he said. "I like any excuse to hug you," he added sheepishly, looking into his lap.

There was a time only a few short months ago when such a response from him would have had her blushing profusely. Now, though, it made her blood run cold as she was reminded of their precarious situation.

"Ron-" she started, unsure of what to say. Before she could say anything, however, he continued speaking.

"I'm sorry about Lavender, really," he said, taking her hand and tracing gentle patterns on it. "I-I was just upset, I'd thought that after we-, well after we,  _you know_ \- that you'd want to start something up, and when you didn't, and I found out about Krum-"

Hermione pulled away guiltily, recalling the night they'd spent together during patrols that now felt so long ago that she could scarcely recall it, although it had only been months prior. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she said. "We- it just wasn't our time, is all."

He scooted closer to where she sat on the edge of his bed. "It could be, though," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist. "I can break up with Lavender-"

"No," she said, springing up. "She likes you. You're happy with her."

Ron scoffed, snatching her back down beside him before she could depart. "No, I'm not," he said, looking at her accusingly. "And you know that - she drives me insane!"

Truthfully, she did know that, but she pressed forward regardless. "You should try with her, she has good intentions, you deserve her-"

"Is it McLaggen, then?" Ron's voice was toneless.

"What-no!" she said. "I promise you,  _no_ ," she said, shivering.  _No, it's much so much worse_ , she wanted to say but kept her mouth firmly closed as Ron's eyes roved over her expression.

"Then who is it?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

"It's no one," she lied. "It's just not our time-"

As if on cue, the double doors to the hospital wing burst open, admitting none other than Lavender. She glared at where Hermione and Ron had automatically sprung apart but said nothing.

"Oh, my Ronniekins!" she cried, draping herself dramatically across Ron's lap. "How could this have happened to you?"

On a normal day, Hermione would have melted into the background, rolling her eyes at Lavender's antics. Instead, she swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat as she recalled the reason Ron was there in the first place and turned to leave. At the door, she breezed past where Dumbledore and Snape stood, both of whom had paused to appraise her. One sweep past both of their eyes told her that somehow, they both knew exactly what had transpired and who had caused the chaos. It made a swell of anger rise within her as she realized that there would likely be no punishment for Malfoy, the reasons for which she could not begin to understand. She stormed past them without a word, determined to make it to her four-poster before she dissolved into tears once again.

**X**

She did not see Malfoy until Arithmancy class later that day. She spent most of the lesson glaring daggers into his back, knowing that he'd deliberately ignored her accusatory stare when he'd breezed in moments before class had begun. She took in the tense stance of his broad back as she alternated between wanting to hex him to tears and wanting to cry for herself. Occasionally, Pansy Parkinson would lean over to whisper in his ear, and even traced a fingernail along his thigh, looking up at him through her eyelashes. It made Hermione sick. How could she sit there, flirting innocently with a murderer?

The man was the embodiment of damnation, and Hermione had damned herself to hell with him.

Her anger flared, and she slipped her wand under the table, tapping it against her ring as she sent a message to him over and over again.  _I hate you. I hate you. I hate you._  She pressed her wand into her ring until she had the satisfaction of seeing him grip his table in pain, shooing away Pansy's concerned questions. She continued until he slid it off and dropped it into his bag surreptitiously, a quick glint of silver the only indication there had been anything on his finger at all.

When she spied the finger where his ring had lain, it was a dark, angry red.

**X**

It was getting late, but Hermione was still in the library, tucked into a dark corner as she searched through the pile of tomes she'd amassed, looking for anything that plausibly sounded like the word Horcrux. She stood, stretching as she finished her latest pile, levitating the books behind her as she prepared to return them to their respective spots. She'd barely made it a few steps down the first darkened aisle she'd turned down when she spotted Malfoy in front of her, perusing a the tomes in front of him.

Before she could stop to register her actions, she had him pinned to the shelf with a flick of her wand, her pile of books abandoned on the ground behind them.

"You almost killed him," she seethed, stepping forward with a snap of her wand that had his head smacking back against the sprawling shelf.

"Put me down," he growled, glaring at her.

"What were you doing with it?" she said, flicking her wand again so his head smacked against the shelf with another satisfying  _crack_. "Answer me!"

"Fuck you," he snapped, which she answered with another flick.

"Answer. Me," she growled.

"I was trying to destroy it!"

"I don't believe you!"

Malfoy remained silent, continuing to glare at her.

"Give me a good reason not to hex you right now," she snapped, keeping her voice low in order not to attract any attention. "He. Could. Have. Died!"

"But he didn't, did he?" Malfoy retorted.

"Is that all you can say?" she said as she stumbled back, horrified. "You almost killed someone...and  _that_  is all you can say?"

He took her momentary hesitation as a chance to release her hold on him, lowering himself to the ground and quickly descending upon her. It wasn't until he was nearly upon her that she realized how tall he'd grown, towering over her small frame. "I told you that I was trying to destroy it. I asked you to retrieve it, did I not?"

She shoved him backward. "Do not dare turn this on me," she snapped. " _You_  did this, and you cursed that necklace too, didn't you?" she asked.

When his response was silence, she couldn't help but gasp, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"What else have you done?" she whispered. "Who else have you killed?"

"I killed no one," he said, his voice little more than a low growl.

"I don't believe you," she said, searching his grey eyes for a hint of humanity. She found none. "You deliberately tried to murder two innocent people in cold blood-"

"You don't know anything of what I've done, Granger," he snapped.

"I do!" she shot back. "I was there —  _both_  times!"

"You bloody pathetic Gryffindor know-it-all, thinking you know everything-"

"I defended you!" she said. "I  _defended_  you, and all this time you were doing it, and Harry was  _right_ -"

"Potter knows nothing."

"He knew enough to see plainly what you were doing, even when we denied it and tried to defend you!"

"I never asked for anyone to defend me, Granger," he said. She didn't know when she had let him descend upon her again, but she now had her back to a shelf and was trapped in the cage his arms made around her as he glared down at her.

"You've never deserved it," she shot back. "You are a monster-"

"And you've married me," he smirked suddenly, his eyes dancing with cruel humor. "I wonder, hmm, how that makes you feel. Following Potter around like a lost dog, lapping at his feet while he carries on without a clue as to what you've done-"

"Screw you, Malfoy," she breathed.

"But you have, haven't you?" he said, smirking wider. "What would you do if Potter found out that you let me  _fuck_  you-"

She raised a hand to slap him, but he caught her by the wrist before she could complete the action. "Never try to strike me again, Granger," his voice was dark, devoid of emotion. He slammed her arm back against the shelf, causing her to stifle a cry at the pain the bloomed at the force of his action. "You  _will_ regret it." She felt a tickle of something in her mind and wrenched her eyes away from his as she realized that he'd taken the opportunity to probe against her still-underdeveloped Occlumency shields.

Rage boiled in her stomach as she was faced with the harsh reality of what she'd been tasked with and the man she'd been bound to. She purposefully met his hard, darkened eyes once more before she reared back and spat in his face.

She had the satisfaction of seeing him blink in confusion for a second before he flushed an angry red and snatched her up by the shoulders, tightly enough that she knew it would leave marks in her skin. A hex was tumbling off of her tongue when the sound of footsteps moving toward them caused them both to freeze. The steps drew closer, and they sprang apart, both still shaking with rage.

"Draco?" Pansy Parkinson stepped around the corner, blinking in confusion as she recognized Hermione. Before she could utter a word, Hermione shoved past her, flicking her wand at the pile of books she'd abandoned on the floor earlier and sending them flying toward Malfoy, hoping that at least some of them would hit their target.

**X**

Hermione sat with Ron and Harry in the common room, watching them play a game of wizard's chess. They'd slowly sunken into a normal routine once again in the weeks since Ron had recovered, and she'd allowed herself to start pretending that things were normal with them once more. She laughed along with their jokes, ignoring the hollow, empty feeling the echoed in her chest as she joined in on their playful banter. She prayed for their happy attitudes to infect her the way it did their other classmates, but she could not help feeling anything but hollow emptiness as it passed over her in waves, dragging her under for short periods before floating away, leaving her as cold and empty as before.

In her bag lay three books on ancient marriage bonding ceremonies that she'd yet to pick up, fearful at the idea of what else she might find about the bonding magic that inextricably linked her to Draco Malfoy. She looked up at where Harry and Ron exchanged casual banter, wondering what their reactions would be if they found out what she'd done. Harry, she knew, would cut her off immediately, unable to look at her with anything but abject disgust as the depths of her betrayal sunk in. And Ron…

It would break his heart. Truthfully, she knew that she'd been slowly breaking it herself the more she denied his advances but knew that something as monumental as this would shatter him completely. She'd once pictured a future with Ron, knowing that it would have been easy and uncomplicated. He would have treated her well, and they could have been happy together.

"...Malfoy," Harry was saying. At the mention of her husband's name her head snapped up, and she zeroed in on their conversation.

"What did you just say, Harry?" she asked.

"I've asked Dobby and Kreacher to start following him," he explained. "He keeps disappearing off the map, but if anyone will be able to figure out where to, it'll be them."

She nodded, feeling her heartbeat begin to race as she took in the new information. It had been several weeks since their row, and they'd studiously avoided each other whenever they crossed paths. Still, she could not help but feel torn, knowing that she would need to inform Malfoy if he tried to summon her to meet him at any point, lest their secret be revealed. A larger, more vocal part of her wanted the elves to find him and catch him in the act of doing something nefarious, enough so that Dumbledore would not be able to let it pass the way he had Ron's poisoning. If the elves reported something serious to him, Harry would not rest until it was known by all who would listen that Malfoy was a near-murderer.

 _A near murderer._  She'd bound herself to a near murderer, who had only not yet earned the full title due to his attempts having been foiled. If he were to be exposed as a murderer, then he'd surely be sent to Azkaban, wouldn't he? She would die when he died, yes, but it wasn't unheard of for prisoners to live on for years - decades, even - while imprisoned there. But if he were to be sentenced to the Kiss…

If he was sentenced to the Kiss, she knew that she could not guarantee that her own soul would be sucked out of her body, too, leaving her a lifeless presence, alive but not living. She worried at her lip as she looked up at Harry and Ron's smiling faces once again, realizing how fractured their friendship had truly become in the face of her decision. She had to warn him, even if it meant undermining her friends.

"Excuse me," she whispered, knowing they'd barely register her taking her leave. Even when she was in their presence these days she felt like an outsider, hovering in their midst without substance.

She sat up in her four-poster for hours, turning her ring over and over in her fingers as she pondered her options. It was unlikely, after all, that he'd even put it back on after her assault in Arithmancy the week before. Eventually, though, she tapped it and activated the charm, sending a simple note:  _You're being followed_.

As expected, there was no response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every review means the world to me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to RESimon for being such a wonderful beta.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

The weeks continued to fly past and she threw herself into her schoolwork, allowing herself to pretend that her brooding husband did not exist. Harry had figured out that Malfoy had been disappearing into the Room of Requirement but knew nothing beyond that, and her guilt had only continued to grow, festering in her gut like a disease.

Currently, Hermione was sitting in the common room, her mind reeling as Harry relayed what he'd learned about Horcruxes from Slughorn's memory. In his and Ron's eyes, she could see the tendrils of the fear that had been hanging over her like a shadow for weeks slowly creeping in, causing them to face the realization that the conflict that they had been preparing to face for years was now rapidly approaching, whether they wanted it to or not.

She'd been able to avoid Malfoy as much as she could over the weeks that had passed since their blowout, but she knew that as the end the school year approached, their time avoiding each other was rapidly waning as well.

"What do you think will happen, Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice small. She looked up at them, allowing them to see the raw reality of her emotions for the first time in weeks, knowing that they would chalk it up to her fear about what they just learned, unsuspecting of the true origins of her hesitation.

"I don't know, Hermione," Harry said. "But I know that we have to fight this, whatever it is–no matter how difficult it may be to accept the reality of it."

She knew that he expected her to fight with him as she had been non-stop throughout the school year, but instead, she just nodded, turning to look into the fire and letting her eyes drift away as far as her mind had.

She felt to Ron take up her hand squeezing it gently. "We will get through this Hermione," Ron said. "We'll destroy them all, and kill him once and for all and things will go back to normal, you'll see," he said, his voice ever hopeful.

She wanted to cry at the optimism and she saw shining in his eyes, and collapse at his feet as she tried to explain that now things would never be the same between them again, no matter how desperately she wished they could be. She had made an irreversible decision all for the sake of the Order and she could no longer renege on it, no matter how much she felt like she was rotting from the inside out in the wake of her decision.

"I think I'll head up to bed early tonight," Hermione said. "I'll see you tomorrow," she added, picking up her book bag and making her way up the steps to the girls' dorms.

As she dressed for bed, her head filled with an overabundance of scenarios she imagined could explain Dumbledore's reasoning behind choosing her to be bonded to Malfoy. Had he known, she wondered, what Malfoy had done when they'd asked her to marry him? Had the Order known? Had they any inkling of his nefarious activities or had they brushed off any suspicions in hopes that they could secure Mrs. Malfoy's allegiance? If they had known, had it not mattered enough to them in the wake of what was being offered to them? She had always blindly trusted the Order, believing that all decisions they made were to benefit the light, every thought process laced with moral integrity as they weighed the possible consequences as well as the costs and benefits of every decision they made. The seed of doubt that had begun growing and coiling in her stomach since the night of her marriage now felt like tendrils tickling at her logic, forcing her to reconsider all that she thought that she'd known about what equated  _good_  versus  _bad_.

She recalled the looks on McGonagall and Kingsley's faces that night as they'd watched her come to her decision, the hard looks in their eyes and slight frowns curling at their lips. At the time, she'd thought that they had been worried for her, but she realized now that they had likely been worried for themselves and the consequences of the decisions they had made. She wondered how long they had debated about whether or not to pose their request her, knowing that such a decision would tread dangerously on the edge of moral ambiguity. She wondered how much it had really mattered to them that she had had no idea of the underhanded dealings of her classmate, equating her life with the needs of the Order as flippantly as one would ask a friend a simple favor.

But that was what it had become, had it not? She knew that her life could not come above the needs of the Order, that her sacrifice, in the grand scheme of things, was nothing compared to what was that stake. She thought of the lives of muggleborns who lived in the magical world and those whose powers had yet to manifest alike, knowing that their survival was what mattered in the grand scheme of things. What was her life, compared to theirs? She knew it was nothing, and that on that fateful night she had decided it was worth sacrificing because there was no scenario that she could envision where she would not do the same, whether it be on the battlefield or by finding her life force to that of the enemy.

**X**

She was sitting in Potions class when it happened.

One moment, she was adding a handful of carefully chopped herbs into her cauldron. The next, her body was filled with a seeping cold, gripping her heart like a vice. She clutched the table hard, scattering a bowl of pixie wings across her workstation. A few curious eyes looked up at her, blinking at the sudden mess she'd made.

She lifted a trembling hand in the air. "I need to-" she shuddered as the cold grew so severe that it felt like ice was forming in her veins, and she gasped, stumbling out the doorway as she ignored the concerned questions of her classmates and Professor Slughorn alike.

She stumbled to the floor when she was in the hallway, a hand grasping her chest as her heart began to thunder. Something was wrong—very wrong. The moment the thought crossed her mind, she immediately knew that it had something to do with Malfoy. He had been injured–-no, he was  _dying_. Panic coursed through her veins as she forced herself to tear through the hallways, knowing not where her feet were leading her, but somehow knowing that it was it the right direction. She was stumbling up a set of stairs when she doubled over, heaving. Sweat poured from her brow while the cold continued to ravage her insides, and she forced her panic-stricken mind to propel her forward, knowing that she would be too late if she hesitated even a moment longer.

She made it to the sixth floor, tearing down the hall until she abruptly stopped as the feeling disappeared completely. At once, she felt normal again, as if the life-ending doom that had permeated her body only seconds before had never come to pass.

The door beside her burst open suddenly and Harry tore past her, not even registering her presence. She opened her mouth to call out to him when she noticed a steady trickle of water seeping from the door he had just exited. Trepidation began growing in her heart as she stepped forward and slowly pushed open the door, revealing the boys' bathroom within. A sink had burst in the far corner of the bathroom, spurting a steady stream of water that left a shallow pool on the ground. And in the middle of that pool lay her husband, on his back with bleeding wounds all over his body as Professor Snape bent over him.

She gasped, clapping to hand over her mouth. Snape looked up sharply, catching her gaze.

"He lives," Snape said.

She gaped at where Malfoy's unmoving body lay, then back out the door where Harry and exited only moments before. "Did Harry…?" She asked, meeting Snape's eyes.

The man nodded sharply, then turned back to Malfoy. "We need to move him," he said.

"What happened?" She whispered, eyes still frozen as she looked at her husband's prone body.

"He was cursed," Snape explained. "Come," he said, levitating Malfoy's body.

She followed him out of the bathroom and down the hall, where he stepped into engineer hidden stairwell and began quietly descending the steps. She did not take her eyes off of Malfoy's body the entire time, roving over his wounds and watching the shallow, pained breaths he took with every movement. They emerged somewhere in the dungeon, where Snape led them to a small room, that was outfitted with a simple cot, a chair and a small table holding only a jug of water.

Snape bent over Malfoy again, muttering a series of incantations that she did not recognize. She watched him quietly for a long while, eyes trained anxiously on the ghostly pallor of Malfoy's face.

After a while, Snape stood, turning to her. "You will need to continue his treatments," Snape said."I know not when I will be summoned, and it is important that he receive timely treatment. The wounds have now been sealed, but the curse lingers in his system, and will return if it is not coaxed out in a precise manner."

She nodded, still watching Malfoy's body. "He almost died, didn't he?" she asked, meeting Snape's eyes.

"Yes," The man answered simply.

She shuddered at his words, swearing she could still feel the tickle of that dreadful cold seeping through her veins. The consequences of their bonding had to come into sharp focus, and it terrified her. This man's life with tethered completely to her own, and she had no way of extricating herself from it without life-ending consequences.

"Tell me what to do," she said.

**X**

She did not return to Gryffindor tower until late at night, exhausted after the hours she'd spent coaxing the dark tendrils of the curse out of Malfoy's wounds. He had not yet awoken, but he only whimpered softly in pain as she worked, propelling forward her urgency. She held no affection for the man, but she could not deny the way her heart clenched at seeing him in such a state.

When she stepped through the portrait hole, the common room was empty save for Harry, who sat staring at the fire that burned in the hearth.

"What did you do, Harry?" She asked softly, sitting down beside him.

"He almost died," Harry whispered, his voice breaking. "I almost killed him," he added, his voice so low that she barely heard him.

"Harry–" she started.

He turned to her, his emerald eyes distraught as he looked at her. "You know that I would not have done it if I had known—"

"Known what?" she asked.

"The curse," he breathed. "I didn't know what the curse meant, it's sad to use it on your enemies and I thought—"

Hermione inhaled sharply at his words."You used a curse from that book, Harry?" she asked. She immediately knew his answer from the guilt she saw pass through his eyes.

"I didn't know," he whispered.

"But you should have!" she snapped, standing up as rage coursed through her body in a sudden torrent. "You almost killed him!"  _You almost killed me_ , she wanted add, biting her lip to keep the tremble out of her voice.

"You don't think I know that?" Harry said. "Myrtle followed me all the way here, screeching that I am a dirty murderer," his voice was hollow, and she could hear the sorrow and regret in it.

Hermione ran a trembling hand through her hair, unable to look hairy in the eye.

"Hermione," he whispered. "Everyone knows, they think I'm a monster–don't leave me too," he said.

When she looked down at him his eyes were filled with the familiar pleading look fat she always succumbed to in the past. She wanted to scream at him, berate him for what he had done, almost depriving her of her life for no reason other than a fit of anger against his childhood bully. But she knew that she could not do that, and so she let her expression soften, sinking back into the sofa and pulling him into her arms. Almost immediately, she felt his tears wetting her blouse and she squeezed him closer, knowing that she should relish in these moments while they lasted, before she would leave and align her loyalties with her husband, breaking her best friend's heart.

**X**

She spent her lunches and evening hours tending to Malfoy, precisely reciting the incantations Snape had taught her, watching the dark tendrils of the curse lift themselves from his skin and dissipate in the damp air of the small room.

On the third evening, she'd just finished a fourth round of siphoning out the curse when Malfoy turned and blinked his eyes open. At first, she wondered if he even recognized her. His gray eyes were vacant and nearly unseeing as they roved around the room, focusing on nothing at all. Eventually, however, they settled on her, alight with an intensity she had never seen in them. They looked at each other for a few long moments, and she held her breath as she waited for him to curse her.

Nothing came. Instead, the intensity in his eyes dimmed, and he gave her a weak nod of acknowledgment. And as quickly as they had opened, his eyes fluttered shut again and he fell into a peaceful sleep.

**X**

It was late, and Hermione found herself in the library yet again, perusing through a pile of books that were scattered on the table in front of her. This time, however, instead of searching for what she could find on Horcruxes, Each tome contained various bits of lore surrounding ancient marriage bonding ceremonies. She had been reading for hours, and she was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of types of ceremonies there were. She had looked deep into history, to points where nations had existed only in broken fragments, each culture having its own practices regarding marriage. Most ceremonies utilize blood magic as a way of forming marriage bonds, and many of them - too many - carried the unfortunate consequences of the immediate death of both spouses upon the death of one.

It was maddening. After hours of research, she'd found only a handful of similar ceremonies but not the exact one she was searching for. She ran her finger down yet another page, quietly muttering to herself the Latin vows she remembered repeating on that fateful night. Yet again, the vows she found bore little resemblance to the phrases she recalled. She yawned as she turned to the next page, skimming through the words she saw before she stopped abruptly. In the middle of the paragraph where her finger had stopped, a familiar line stared back at her. She sat up straighter, newly alert as she read the paragraph, recognizing some of the Latin words she had heard her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor speak that night. Further down the page, she saw the words Malfoy had repeated to her and froze, realizing that this was it.

She took a deep breath before turning into the page next to where the vows were written, knowing that the words she had dreaded to read were now in front of her. The name of the type of bonding spell they had used was a long and complicated Latin phrase that she committed to memory before moving down the page, skimming the details of the ritual. " _Bonding is done by combining the blood of the intended spouses… once complete, consummation is required in order to make the bonding permanent… dissolution of the bond is impossible, and upon the death of one spouse, the other shall follow nearly immediately… throughout their lifetime spouses can never be compelled to speak of their marital dealings, including by way of magical coercion…"_

Hermione froze, re-reading the last few lines. They could never be compelled to reveal their marital dealings, and even outside compulsion as pervasive as veritaserum could not be used against them. The only way that the dealings of the spouses could be revealed outside of their own volition was through Legilimency. Hermione paused, then re-read the sentences again. And again. With shaking hands, she turned back the pages of the book she was reading from, skimming the entries detailing other similar marriage bonding ceremonies as her blood began to run cold with the realization that had begun to dawn upon her. Almost all the ceremonies in the book bound to the intended spouses with blood magic. Almost all resulted in the death of both spouses upon the death of one. Almost all made intimacy with another nearly impossible outside the bond. But only one… only one had this additional trait.

She shoved the book into her bag, standing mechanically as her footsteps let her out of the library and down the hall. Dread seeped into her veins as she neared her destination, all the while thinking of a vast array of reasons that could explain away what she'd just discovered other than the one that loomed at the front of her mind like any imposing shadow, casting everything she'd once seen as light versus dark into doubt.

Before long, she was stopped in front of the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, her mouth dry and her breaths shallow as she continued to try and reason the situation over her mounting panic.

Before she could make a decision - whether to demand entry or run back to her room and cry, she knew not - a familiar voice spoke from behind her.

"What brings you here at this late hour?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling in the same way she'd come to know over the years. Now, though, she wondered if what she'd always taken for kindness was simply a calculated look, hidden behind the gentle mannerisms of an aging man who was experienced in the art of manipulation.

"I need to speak with you," she said, hearing the slight tremble in her voice.

Dumbledore looked at her for a moment before nodding, and the gargoyle slid open beside him, revealing the entrance to his office. She followed him up the steps in silence, her trepidation growing with every movement as she neared and closer to hearing the truth she feared from the words of the man she had trusted implicitly for so many years.

When they entered his office, Dumbledore sat at his desk quietly, summoning the steaming pot of tea and pouring her a cup. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Hearing her new name come from his mouth sounded like a curse. "Why did you ask me to marry him?" she asked quietly.

He gave her a sad smile. "I understand that Mr. Malfoy can be quite difficult –" he paused as she scoffed at his words. "—but I know that you understood the necessity of your union when we made the proposal to you."

"But why–why did you choose  _me_  specifically?" she asked. "Surely there are other Order members as valuable as I–"

"There are many hardships that the members of the Order will have to endure during the upcoming war. I thought you best suited for this particular task."

"I spent my evening researching ancient marriage bonding ceremonies," she said tonelessly. "Do you know how many I found?"

The man did not answer, and she did not expect him to.

"Four hundred and sixty-seven," she said softly. "I found four hundred and sixty-seven possible ceremonies that you could have chosen. Yet, you chose the  _only one_ that binds us so completely that we can never be compelled to reveal any of our dealings together. Not by our friends, not by our family, and not by any legal entities either, whether veritaserum or other similar methods are employed. The only method that can be used to extract this information would be through Legilimency," she added the last part in a whisper, recalling his reminder that they strengthen their Occlumency shields.

Dumbledore was quiet as he observed her for a long moment. "There are sacrifices that we all must make," he said simply.

"I am not Harry!" she snapped. "You do not get speak to me in vague references, and expect that I will follow you blindly, never questioning the peculiar ambiguity of your words."

Dumbledore perused her quietly again, his eyes unreadable in the wake of her words. "You are the brightest witch of your age, Mrs. Malfoy," he said.

"What do you mean to have us do?" she asked, fear swirling in her heart as she realized that she knew nothing about the man that sat in front of her. No, she had never known anything about him at all, she decided.

"You made a commitment to the Order, Mrs. Malfoy," he said.

"Stop calling me that!" she thundered, disgust rolling through her in waves at his repeated use of her new name, reminding her of the damning choice she had made.

"it was your decision to take on this name, Mrs. Malfoy," he reminded her, his voice is gentle as ever. It infuriated her.

"I decided to aid in the Order in securing a vital ally," she seethed. "I did not choose to become a part of your—your  _schemes_!"

At this, he said nothing, instead continuing to look at her in silence, his peacefulness contrasting sharply against her outburst.

"You knew I would not refuse to help the Order," she breathed. "You  _knew_  this, and you took my loyalty to use me as a pawn—"

"I would never call upon you to do anything that you would not do in the name of the Order," he answered.

She reeled at the implications of his words. She had thought, that in fighting for the light, the actions they would take would show a clear path of unambiguously good intentions towards winning the war. But now, as she looked into his eyes, she felt entirely uncertain about his plans for their involvement in the war. She had not considered that she might be asked to walk a grey path in her attempts to aid the war effort. She had blindly allowed herself to be brought into the schemes of a man who knew exactly how far she would go in the name of the Order. Either they would live, unable to be punished for whatever they would be compelled to do, or they would die together – and their crimes would die with them.

She stood, glaring at the man who seemed somehow keen to rip all purity from her soul. She slammed a fist down on his desk, wordlessly shattering both their cups of tea into a heap of porcelain shards and steaming liquid before exiting the room and slamming the door hard behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you were correct in suspecting that there was more at play behind Dumbledore's request - there always is with him, isn't there? I can't wait to hear your thoughts/your hypotheses about what's to come.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to RESimon for being an amazing beta.

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Change was coming.

Hermione could feel it curling in the air around them, tickling at her as it approached like the tendrils of smoke as she tried to focus on each day, relishing in the quickly waning moments she had with her small circle of friends. Harry continued to voice his mounting suspicions of Malfoy, while Ron had broken up with Lavender and had taken to giving her long, wistful looks whenever the opportunity presented itself. She ignored him the best she could, careful not to lead him on even as her heart crumbled more each day under the weight of her betrayal.

She'd thrown herself into her studies, painstakingly combing through every book she could find that even reasonably related to the concept of Horcruxes and the art of Occlumency alike. She was taking a late afternoon stroll along the grounds, enjoying the sunshine and the beauty of the castle as she wondered how long it would be until she visited the castle next when her ring began to burn, bringing the fact that summer break was rapidly approaching into sharp focus. She looked around for prying eyes before pulling it off, ignoring the hauntingly beautiful way it glittered in the sunlight.  _RoR,_  it said simply.

She made her way back to the castle quickly and was soon stepping into the Room of Requirement where Malfoy awaited her, perched tensely on the arm of one of the sofas the room had provided.

"What is it?" she asked, clenching her jaw as she tried to keep her voice even.

"We're leaving. Tonight," he clipped. "Pack your trunk and do not attempt to say your goodbyes to any of your pathetic little friends. We must be discreet."

Hermione gaped at him. "You can't just expect me to—"

His eyes flashed. "Oh, but I can," he said. "Your loyalties begin and end with me now, Granger, or have you forgotten?" he spat bitterly.

They stared each other down for a heated moment, and she wondered vaguely how badly she could hex him without putting his life in danger.

"I hate you," she spat.

"And I don't care," he shot back. "You will pack your things and meet me by the gates by nightfall."

She crossed her arms. "You can't expect me to bend your every whim," she snapped.

He shoved past her, heading for the door. "Nightfall," he said sharply, letting the door slam shut behind him.

**X**

Hermione sat in the common room beside Ron, one of the many books on Occlumency she'd been studying open in her lap, although she'd read the same line a dozen times over without absorbing it. She sighed, glancing over at Ron who was also staring off into the distance, a worried look on his face.

"What do you suppose he gave it to us for?" Ron asked, twisting of the vial that contained the remains of Harry's Felix Felicis between his fingers.

Hermione looked away, unable to ignore the dread that grew up in her heart as she recalled Harry's words from earlier that night:  _Malfoy is going to try something tonight. I'm certain of it._

On their way back to Gryffindor Tower, Ron had to try it to reassure her that maybe nothing would happen at all and that it was just Harry's paranoia that had been heightened by the events of the school year. She had wished desperately that she could have told him what she knew, that something  _was_ going to happen. She was completely in the dark about the situation, unsure of if any of her loved ones would be safe, relying solely on the idea that they would be safe by virtue of being at Hogwarts. Even the idea of that safety that she'd always assumed what is now overcast with doubt as she recalled her last conversation with Dumbledore, recalling the twinkle in his eyes that she now recognized as the calculating work, signifying that she knew nothing at all of his intentions. He had, after all, allowed several students to come dangerously close to death under his watch this year, and let both Harry and Malfoy off with barely a punishment for their misdeeds.

No, she realized, she knew nothing at all, and the bleak emptiness she felt inside as a result of that knowledge terrified her beyond words. She looked over at Ron again, memorizing his soft features, wanting to reach out and trace a finger along his freckled skin and look into his blue eyes until the memory of them was burned into her soul forever. Her shrunken trunk felt impossibly heavy in the pocket of her robes, and her heart clenched painfully as she looked out the window, seeing the last vestiges of sunset rapidly disappearing over the horizon. It was almost time. It was almost time, and she knew that no matter how much time she had been given, she could never have been ready for this.

She leaned into Ron's side, knowing that her actions were based out of pure selfishness as he looked down at her, surprised. He slung an arm around her a moment later, and she ignored the way that her skin burned with the reminder of her betrayal as he pulled her closer. This she would take, despite how well she knew that the distance she had painstakingly created over the past few months should have remained.

Scarcely fifteen minutes later, the sun had disappeared completely on the horizon, and dusk settled over the castle grounds. It was time.

She looked up at Ron, allowing herself to take in his features once more, including the adoration that shone in his eyes as he looked back at her. He leaned forward slightly, a questioning look in his eyes as they flicked to her lips before meeting hers. For a fleeting moment – the breath of a second – she wanted to lean in close the distance between them, forgetting the traitorous circumstances she herself had manifested, allowing them to be just  _Ron_   _and Hermione_  for one last moment.

But at the last moment, she turned her head, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek before she stood, mumbling an excuse about doing rounds before heading out the portrait hole and letting it swing shut behind her with a finality that echoed in the recesses of her heart.

**X**

The minute Hermione stepped outside of the castle, she was assaulted by the acrid taste of  _wrongness_  that lingered in the air, coating her tongue thickly in its malignant aura with every breath she took. Every step she took felt as though it were synced to the foreboding chime of a death knell, although she knew that she had technically signed away her life months ago.

She was passing just beneath the Astronomy Tower when she spotted two figures flying in, and she ducked into the cover of the bushes at the base of the tower, her heart thundering as she spotted Dumbledore's telltale beard flying around him in the night. It must have been him and Harry returning from whatever he had tasked Harry with on that evening. She was debating whether it was safe to continue towards the gate that loomed in the distance when the shouts started. There were several voices floating down from the tower that rose high above her, and she could not discern what was being said, only that some kind of chaos had erupted.

She wondered what could have possibly been going on in the tower, feeling mounting trepidation as the shouting intensified, wondering about Harry's safety even though she knew that Dumbledore was there protecting him. If there was anything that she knew for certain over her other anxieties concerning the man, it was that Harry mattered dearly to this war and he would not compromise–

Hermione gasped as a lone figure fell from the tower, landing hard on the grass only a few feet before her.

It was a body.

Her heart thundered as she stared wide—eyed at the body that had dropped from the tower and landed before her in a mangled heap. Her body began to tremble as she took a step forward, intending to check if the person could be saved, while also knowing deep inside that no one could have survived that fall. Before she could take a second step, however, her eyes focused on the familiar unmistakable curling beard that she had known for so long that she could have pinpointed it from dozens of feet away.

Dumbledore.

At her realization, she finally found her voice and let out a bloodcurdling scream. The scream had barely started, however, when a hand clamped down over her mouth suddenly, while another wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her into a muscular chest and back into the shadows she had just emerged from.

She began thrashing against the persons hold, desperately trying to reach her wand with her hands that had been firmly clasped to her chest by the person that held her.

"Stop it!" Malfoy's voice was an urgent whisper in her ear.

When she recognized his voice she only increased her flailing, hot tears pouring down her cheeks as she attempted to gnaw at the hand he had clamped over her mouth.

"Dammit, Granger!" he snapped, holding her tighter as she continued to thrash against his iron grip.

There was shouting then and she saw Harry running behind a rapidly retreating Snape, screaming at the man as he aimed curses at him. She could barely make out the words he screamed as her world has been reduced to the sound of her blood pounding in her ears and the harsh whispers of her husband that barely made it through.

She opened her mouth to curse at him once more when she heard several voices speaking as more people approached. Malfoy dragged her back into the shadows, a hand once again clasped over her mouth while the other trapped her arms. She made to fight him off one more when she heard a sickening cackle that made her blood run cold. None other than Bellatrix Lestrange strode up to Dumbledore's mangled body, kicking it with another gleeful cackle as she turned to her companions. Several other masked Death Eaters followed behind her, joining her cackling and trampling over the body without a care in the world as they strode confidently toward the gates, where Harry and Snape were still shouting, the elder man deflecting the litany of curses Harry spewed at him with ease.

She moved to go to Harry's aid, but Malfoy locked her tighter in his grip. Not a moment later, the Death Eaters – including Snape – Disapparated, leaving Harry alone. Hermione watched with an aching heart as he came back to Dumbledore's body, tears glistening on his face as he searched it, before standing up and rushing back to the castle.

The silence that was left in his wake was deafening.

Hot tears continued to stream down her face, running over Malfoy's hand that he still held tight over her mouth. When she reared back and smashed her head into Malfoy's face, she had the satisfaction of hearing him curse and immediately release her.

"What did you do?!" she shouted, shoving him backward. She allowed herself to peek back at where Dumbledore's mangled body lay, then turned and retched into the bushes beside them.

When she finished, she turned back to face him, shoving an accusatory finger into his chest. "Did you do this?! Did you k–" she stopped herself from saying the word as if it would make the dead body that lay only feet away from them any less real.

"No," he said, glaring down at her.

"I don't believe you," she said, repeating the words that she thought every time she heard him speak.

"And I don't care," he said, grabbing her by the upper arm and pulling her towards the gate. "We have to go."

"I'm not going anywhere – not with you."

"We have to  _go_ ," he repeated, his voice devoid of emotion.

This time, she numbly let him drag her along behind him as she tried to make sense of the events that had just transpired. Dumbledore. Snape. Death Eaters. Malfoy.

All of her stuttered ruminations on the subject started and ended with the man that dragged her towards the gates. Awareness slammed back into her suddenly, and she made to tear away from him and run back to the castle, when she was suddenly enveloped in the familiar pull of Apparition, helplessly torn away by the man at the center of the horrifying events that had just transpired.

**X**

They reappeared in what appeared to be a fancy hotel suite, in front of a windowed wall that overlooked the London skyline. On another day— on  _any_ other day, truly, that had come before this one —she would have stopped to admire the breathtaking beauty of the view. Instead, all she could see was her hatred and disgust for the man that still held her upper arm in his vice-like grip. She knew that she could hex him within an inch of his life and not feel a thing — it would only be when his life force was actively draining away that she would feel his last agonizing minutes along with him.

Instead, she ripped her arm away, looking up at him and channeling all the hatred she felt in that moment. "You disgust me," she spat, before drawing her own wand and disapparating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very emotional to write, even though I know we've all technically already experienced Dumbledore's death in canon. As a reminder, though, this fic is canon divergent and only loosely follows canon events through the summer before diverging. I also hope this clarifies the questions some of you had on if one feels the injuries of the other - they don't feel anything until the other is experiencing their last moments of life. Can't wait to hear your thoughts on the chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much to my beta, RESimon - you're a dream.

**CHAPTER SIX**

She landed on the doorstep of her parents' home, collapsing in a heap as sobs began to rock her body. She vaguely registered the door opening, and the confused voices of her parents as they fretted over her. She let them help her up and take her inside, sobbing all the way to the family room where they wrapped her in a blanket and soon placed a steaming mug of tea into her trembling hands.

"Hermione, love," her father asked urgently, his hazel eyes wide with concern. "Tell us what happened –why on earth aren't you at school?"

She opened her mouth to speak, trying to formulate a lie that could realistically encompass her grief. Instead, a fresh round of sobs escaped her, causing her parents to wrap their arms around her as they whispered soothing words into her ear.

They stayed like this with her for hours, letting her cry as they held her in their comforting embrace, occasionally planting kisses along her forehead and hair as she cried. She fell asleep like this, waking up sometime in the middle of the night to find that they had tucked her into her bed. She sat up, shivering even though her room was temperate, reflective of the summer months that they had entered. She cast a warming charm on her sheets, instantly feeling the spell begin to work.

Still, she could not help the cold that seeped through her body, feeling as though it enveloped her entire soul.

**X**

She was still numb a few days later when McGonagall showed up on her doorstep, looking somber as she took in Hermione's expression.

"How are you doing, child?" The kindly woman asked.

"I should be asking you the same, professor," she said, knowing the woman would detect the emptiness in her voice. She lead the woman inside, moving mechanically as she poured her a cup of tea from the steaming pot she had just set down on the table.

"The funeral will be held at Hogwarts tomorrow," McGonagall explained, searching her eyes. Hermione nodded, staring down into her tea unblinkingly.

"You did not answer my earlier question," the older woman said softly.

"It is because I do not know the answer," she answered robotically, not bothering to meet McGonagall's searching gaze.

"Where is he?" McGonagall asked softly.

"I do not care where he is," she answered tonelessly. "I know what he's done." She thought of all the lies he had told her since they'd married, feeling bile rise in her throat at the memory of it all. She had left him wherever his hotel was, praying she wouldn't have to see him again until whenever the Order designated they were to go into hiding. At the time she'd decided to leave with him, she'd thought stealing away in the night with him was the best course of action for them. Now, she desired nothing more than to have done anything but.

McGonagall reached out to place a hand over where Hermione's rested on the table. "He did not do this," she said. "He was raised in an environment of abject cruelty, but this is not something he was capable of."

"How do you know?"

McGonagall sighed. "It was Severus."

At this, Hermione looked up, shocked. "He–what? I—I don't understand," she asked, looking at her professor with wide eyes.

"I know not the answers to the questions you wish to pose," the older woman said. "I, too, am confused."

Hermione was quiet as she remembered the way she had seen Harry screaming and throwing curses at Snape that night. "What happens now?" she asked, knowing her voice betrayed the fear she felt inside.

"I do not know," her professor said solemnly. "There is much at play here that we do not yet understand."

"Did you know why he chose to bond us this way?" she asked, looking up at the woman.

McGonagall sighed. "I had had my suspicions, but I could not be certain — his reasons for choosing you, for binding you in this way were sound, as much as it broke my heart to agreed to the decision."

"Why didn't he have someone else make an unbreakable vow? He could've chosen anyone else in the Order, but he chose  _me_ —"

"Who could we have chosen, Mrs. Malfoy? There are many members of the Order, it is true, but how many would have agreed to bind themselves by way of a perilous Vow that they could not guarantee that they would be able to uphold? Asking them to do so may have decreased their utility in the war, and as you know we have no lives that we can spare, unfortunately."

Hermione looked at the woman who sat in front of her, scanning a face that she had known and trusted for the past six years. She wondered if the woman had known about Dumbledore's ulterior motives - if she had realized, and objected. Or perhaps he had presented the unique advantages that the situation provided, and the Order members present had agreed that it was in their best interest to conceal that aspect of the proposal from her. She no longer knew who she could trust, and it broke her heart.

"Except mine, of course?" Hermione spat bitterly.

McGonagall gave her a sad look over where her spectacles were perched upon her nose. "You know very well of the sacrifices that must be made in times like these. As Albus also pointed out, you are one of the key individuals is that the Order must protect at all costs throughout this war. Who better to choose than someone who is dedicated to the cause and understands the gravity of the situation that approaches us?"

Hermione scoffed. "He gave quite the elaborate explanation, didn't he? Did you know about how completely our marriage has bound us?"

McGonagall reached over and hand and placed it gently atop hers that was clenched into a fist on the tabletop. "I did not– I swear it. As far as I know, only he and Severus were the ones who were aware."

"Regardless of if only they were aware, the Order cannot be unaware of the useful prize that has been played into their hand," she said bitterly.

"The Order would not ask of you anything they know you would not do," McGonagall said.

"You think they would not emphasize the importance of what they will ask of me in the face of the war we must win?" Hermione said. "I know how crucial this war is–I am a Muggle-born. They know that too— do not think it is beneath Kingsley or Moody to guilt me into undertaking missions they wouldn't touch themselves, knowing that if caught we can cover our tracks entirely once we master Occlumency, leaving them with clean hands once this war has concluded. All in the name of the Greater Good." She swallowed, knowing that she had already nearly mastered Occlumency out of sheer desperation to avoid Malfoy's probing in the future, effectively sealing their destiny.

To that, McGonagall said nothing, only continuing to look at her somberly.

Hermione turned to look out the window of her parents' kitchen, observing how peaceful and undisturbed the Muggle world was, in direct contrast to the turmoil that was about to descend upon the Wizarding world.

Eventually, McGonagall broke the silence. "Kingsley would like you to relocate to 12 Grimmauld Place until we've made more suitable arrangements," she said as she stood, making her way back down the hall and toward the front door. Hermione followed quietly, pulling open the door mechanically to let the woman out.

"I do sincerely hope you will be able to attend the funeral," McGonagall said as she stepped through the door.

Hermione said nothing but gave her a small nod as she left the door click shut behind her.

**X**

Hermione sat in the back row of the funeral, wearing thick shades and with her telltale hair pulled back into a sleek chignon, making herself as small as possible. Thankfully, she did not recognize those who sat beside her, and she spent the entire funeral alternating between watching Harry's shock of black hair and Ron's vibrant red. They stood out to her like beacons in the crowd, spots of vibrancy in the otherwise dreary weather. Even after most had stood up and left, she stayed seated, watching as Harry took Ginny aside, speaking to her in low tones. The girl's stance was hunched, and when she turned to leave, Hermione caught a glimpse of tears glistening on the girl's cheeks.

It was a vicious cycle, Hermione mused, and it all ended in heartbreak. These were the first casualties of war. The blatant grief she saw etched on the faces of the mourners that surrounded her was almost a prophetic vision of the world they loved crumbling around them, leaving a bleak new reality in its wake.

She waited until the crowd thinned some more before making her way over to where Ron and Harry sat, talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Hi," Hermione said quietly as she approached, carefully opting to sit in the seat beside Harry and furthest from Ron.

"Hermione?" Harry said, looking up at her. When she met his broken look, she pulled him into her arms, temporarily throwing down the barriers that she'd erected so carefully over the past few months.

"I'm so sorry," she said as she pulled away. "For— for all of it," she said weakly, looking toward Dumbledore's tomb.

Harry leaned into her shoulder, nodding.

"Where were you?" Ron asked.

Hermione focused on looking at Harry, the grass, the sky, Dumbledore's tomb — any and everything that wasn't Ron as she answered. "I...had things to take care of," she said.

"Like what, 'Mione?"

She could hear the doubt and hurt in his voice, and she forced down her pain as she continued to avoid his probing gaze. "My parents," she lied, knowing she'd continued to put off what she knew needed to be done as the war loomed over her.

At her words, Harry's head shot up. "Are they—"

"They're fine," Hermione reassured him. "I just...have to send them somewhere safe," she finished.

Harry continued to look at her with a wild, broken gaze, and she smoothed a hand over his cheek before hugging him again. "It'll be alright," she whispered, despite knowing that neither one of them knew if that was true. "We will survive this." The lies slid off her tongue with ease. She swallowed back the bitter taste they left, accepting that one day, sooner than she would like, she would drown in them.

**X**

Hermione sat at her kitchen table, watching her parents as they laughed together, soap suds in their hair as they playfully splashed each other, dancing to the radio that was tuned to their favorite oldies station as it was every Saturday morning. Her bowl of oats had grown hard and cold in the time she'd been watching them quietly, flashing them her widest, falsest smile every time they turned to her.

The two people in front of her were all she truly had left. She counted Harry and Ron as already lost, as she knew that the clock had begun to tick on their relationship the moment this war had truly begun to manifest. Her eyes roved over them, memorizing every inch of their features as she felt a silent tear slip down her cheek. Could she sever this final connection, knowing that this may well be the last time she saw them?

For a moment, a sliver of selfishness burst forth within her, urging her to ignore the desperation that had brought her to this point. It clawed at her, telling her to keep them here, to keep them near, knowing that they were the only ones who would understand the choices she'd made in the future if she even had one—

" _Obliviate_ ," she whispered, feeling more tears slip down her cheeks as she watched their bodies freeze, her father's arms still wrapped around her mother from behind in an embrace as she whispered the word that would alter their lives around her existence, closing off the gaps she'd created in their memories until their daughter was long gone from their minds, reduced to nothing but a whisper of the memories that had been stolen from them.

**X**

It was nearing dark when she apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place, standing on the doorstep for an inordinate amount of time before she finally stepped through the threshold. She stood in the front hall for a moment, running her fingertips along the faded wallpaper as she tried to commit the place to memory. She had once viewed the place as something akin to a prison, but now she realized that it was the closest place she had to home. At least she had been able to return — after stealing away that night with Malfoy, she had anticipated not returning to any of the sanctuaries that she had shared with her friends for quite some time.

She tiptoed past the oft shrieking portrait that despised her so, wondering what insults the shrill woman would have for her now that Hermione had technically married into her bloodline. At that thought, Hermione's eyes went wide as she went quickly into the room she knew held the Black family tapestry. Her heart race as she searched the tapestry, letting out a relieved breath when the space that would link her to Draco was empty.

"We had that glamoured, too," a voice spoke from behind her, startling her.

She whirled around to see none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt perched in an armchair by the fire, nursing a glass of dark liquor.

"Hello, Kingsley," she said stiffly.

"No one should have had to witness what you did," his said. "Are you alright?"

Hermione stared at him, incredulous for a moment as she took in his words. How could she possibly be alright? From the look in his eyes, she could tell that he, too, knew just how useless his words had been.

"I'm fine," she lied.

"We've prepared a room for you on the top floor," he said as she turned to make her way for the exit.

She paused at that, as she had been heading toward the room she had once shared with Ginny. She turned and gave him a soft nod.

"You have taken on a great responsibility, Hermione," Kingsley said. "It will not be forgotten."

She stiffened at his words, wanting to turn to ask him if he had known about Malfoy's activities before they'd elected to have her bonded to him. But she had already caught the weariness in his stance, the empty look in his eyes as he'd nursed his glass. Instead, she gave him another stiff nod before making the long journey to the topmost floor.

It was quiet in the house save for the creaks her footsteps made as she ascended the stairs. By the time she made it to the topmost floor, the weariness she'd been feeling when she'd entered the home had begun to seep into her bones, and she pushed open the door to the room with the sole intention of taking the sleeping potion she had stashed in her bag and drifting off into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

She knew she shouldn't have been surprised to see Malfoy there, sitting on the small couch, but she was.

They stared each other down for a long, tense moment, and her hand was tight around her wand in her pocket as she debated whether she could hex him without rousing the entire household. Before she could decide, however, he stood and went into the small loo, slamming the door shut behind him.

Before he re-emerged, she had already crossed over to the bed that was pushed into the far corner of the room and curled up on top of the sheets, falling into a deep sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today officially marks 2 weeks since I first posted this fic, and the following I've gotten so far has been amazing - thank you all for all the love! As always, a huge that you to my beta, RESimon, for everything. With this fic especially, she's been monumental in helping flesh things out in a logical way.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Hermione woke early the next morning, tiptoeing past where Malfoy slept on the cramped couch and letting the door click shut softly behind her. She readied herself for the day in one of the bathrooms on the lower floors, stashing her toiletries at the top of the steps in lieu of returning to the room where her husband still slept.

She crept down to the kitchen and was surprised to hear low voices drifting out of the open doorway as she approached. When the occupants were within view, Hermione was surprised to see nearly all the Weasleys, save Percy and Ginny, Fleur Delacour, Tonks, and Lupin sitting around the table, listening to the instructions that Kingsley and Moody gave. When Kingsley and Moody paused to look up at her, the other occupants of the room all turned to appraise the newcomer.

Most of those sat around the table gave her small smiles, and she smiled back. Kingsley and Moody, however, gave her a small frown and a calculating look respectively.

She crossed her arms are stared back at Kingsley defiantly, scanning everyone's faces. "You're planning something," she said. "Something that's happening soon."

Kingsley sighed. "Hermione–"

She ignored him, scanning the meeting's participants once more. "Something that clearly has to do with Harry, seeing that he's not here."

"We have to retrieve him tonight," Ron said, ignoring the frowns his parents gave him as he easily volunteered the information he was clearly not meant to divulge. "Don't worry though, it'll be an easy pickup and we'll be back in no time."

Hermione looked up at Kingsley, eyes narrowed. "If it's an easy pickup, then why haven't I been included?"

Kingsley sighed again, but Ron spoke before he could.

"It'll be best if you stay here where you're safe, 'Mione," Ron said.

"And all of you are going?" she asked.

"Well, Mum and Ginny aren't, but…"

"How are you doing it?" she pressed. "One would think that having this many people go to retrieve him would attract unwanted attention unless—" she looked at Moody, raising an eyebrow as the man grunted in answer.

"Polyjuice, then," she confirmed, and Moody nodded.

"Aye. Perhaps you should be included," Moody mused, his glass eye narrowing as he appraised her. "Quite the bright one, she is," he added, looking at Kingsley.

Kingsley was silent, still watching her with the frown that had been etched on his face since she'd entered.

She ignored the warning look in his eyes, scanning the people in the room as she counted out the numbers. "Why so many? Are you anticipating an attack?"

"No, not as of yet," Fred spoke.

"Simply being precautionary, you see," George finished.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Meaning that the risk is low then," she said, looking at Kingsley, who shook his head minutely in warning.

She ignored him, pressing on. "You will be unevenly numbered with the addition of Harry," she noted. "You would do well by allowing me to come."

"Hermione," Mr. Weasley spoke up, hesitating. "The risk, while low, is still there, and we wish to protect as many from harm as we can, although we know that some are too stubborn to be swayed," He added pointedly, looking around at his children and Fleur alike.

"He's right Hermione," Lupin said, frowning.

"You will be unevenly distributed," she said again. "If you add me in, that will be another decoy, even if this is all just for peace of mind. As you have all said, this is for precautionary measures and there is no serious threat of Death Eaters that we know of," she said, meeting Kingsley's eyes. "The only other person who would be willing to undertake such a task is Ginny, and she still has the Trace. He is my best friend, and you know that there's no one better suited to this task than I."

Moody cleared his throat. "All in favor of Miss Granger joining say aye."

There was a small chorus of "ayes" around the room, although a few remained silent. She met Kingsley's dark gaze for a long moment before sitting down, listening intently as Moody continued outlining the plan for that evening.

**X**

Kingsley found her in the Black family library not long after the meeting adjourned.

"You know that I cannot let you come this evening," he said sharply, his mouth thinned into a hard line in as he looked at her.

"Has she sent word?" Hermione asked, snapping her book shut.

Kingsley's frown deepened. "It does not matter if she has sent word or not. What matters is that until we have secured you a safe location, we have agreed, upon Mrs. Malfoy's insistence, that you are to remain under the direct protection of the Order. We will not have you undertaking anything unnecessarily dangerous before the war has even begun."

 _But you would after it has begun, wouldn't you?_ she wanted to ask. "She has not sent word, which means that they are not aware of our plans," she said. "Let me do this — please. It may be one of the last things I get to do for him before I leave him."

Kingsley continued to frown at her, and she met his look with the one that reflected both her pleading and her determination to accompany them on the mission no matter the cost.

Eventually, Kingsley sighed. "If we receive news that there is any hint of even an inkling amongst the Death Eaters, you will be banned from attending– no exceptions," he said finally.

Hermione nodded, giving him a small, tense smile. "This is all I will ask of you," she promised.

He continued to appraise her for a few moments longer before he turned to leave. "You will ride with me," he said before exiting and pulling the door shut behind him.

**X**

She spent most of the day in the library, continuing her Horcrux research as she tried to stop herself from obsessively checking the clock as nightfall drew nearer. When Tonks found her once it was time to depart, she was already standing, having just been pacing anxiously as she waited to see if there would be news from the elder Mrs. Malfoy or not. She let out a breath when the woman gave her a small nod and indicated that it was time to leave, and she followed her outside, where everyone was mounting their various modes of transportation for that night. She swallowed when she saw Kingsley astride a skeletal horse-like creature, realizing that it was a Thestral. She took a deep breath, forcing down the emotions that rose within her as she was faced with the memory of why she could now see the creature as clear as day when only a year prior she had stumbled and flailed as she tried to mount one.

Kingsley said nothing as she settled herself in front of him, only pressing her close to him as he told her to steady herself. Within minutes, they were all soaring into the night. It was eerily calm, she realized. Up in the sky and free from the constant sounds of London about her, which she had grown so used to, the stillness almost startled her. There was little noise save for the sound of the wind in her ears and Kingsley's breaths behind her. Quickly, sooner than she would have thought, they were all descending and landing on a quiet Muggle street. They were soon knocking at the door of the home Hermione knew that Harry despised, and the man himself opened the door only a moment later, looking surprised to see fourteen of his friends on his doorstep in the middle of the night.

She hovered in the background as the others explained the plan to Harry, then argued with him as he tried to convince them of the risk of their plan. Ron had attempted to stand near her on more than one occasion, and she had quietly— but subtly – shuffled away each time, pretending to examine a few lingering pieces of furniture in Harry's childhood home. It was only when Fleur nudged her, motioning to Hermione to take the flask of Polyjuice that she held out, that Hermione forced herself to focus on the conversation the others were having.

"Come along, 'Arry, we'd best get yeh settled," Hagrid was saying when he stopped abruptly as the sound of the wild tapping noise against the window nearest Hermione startled them into silence.

She froze for a moment as she saw the gleam of a scrap of parchment attached to its leg as it continued to tap frantically at the window. Her heart began stuttering in her chest as she moved over to the window, unlatching it quickly and pulling the parchment from the owl's leg before it took off into the night, leaving as quickly as it had come.

She didn't need to unroll the parchment to know what it said. Instead, she turned her wide eyes to Kingsley, who had approached beside her, plucking the parchment from her fingers effortlessly and reading the few short words that were written on it with a deep frown.

"They are here," he said simply, and the room interrupted into frenzied chaos.

She looked up and met Kingsley's hard gaze, realizing the perilous position she'd placed herself in. She could still try and leave, but the chances of her avoiding the Death Eaters were slim. She would have to polyjuice herself and go back out into what awaited them.

While the other Harry's in the room turned and began to shuffle themselves amongst their designated protectors after giving each other reassuring hugs and squeezes, Hermione got down the bitter-tasting potion, trying to ignore the panic that had risen in her chest as she realized that some of them –possibly including herself– might not survive the night. She steadied herself as the queasiness of the transformation finished, attempting to calm her nerves as she thought of Malfoy, who she had left in the early hours of the morning, asleep and blissfully unaware of the risks she had unilaterally decided to undertake in the name have her best friend.

The others had begun to rush out of the house, and she followed, keeping her eyes firmly on where the Thestral awaited them, feeling the burn of shame on her back where Kingsley's hand gently but firmly guided her forward. She had yet to meet his eyes again, and she had no desire to see the look that she knew must have been clear or obvious in them at that moment. She had increased his duty twofold, and guilt whirled alongside shame in her stomach as she thought of the way she had insisted on attending only that morning.

Within moments, everyone was ready to take off, and when Kingsley gave the signal, her hand tightened around her wand as she waited for the inevitable battle to begin.

The minute they breached the clouds, they were met with chaos. Figures clad in dark cloaks and silver masks dotted the air around them, shooting spells immediately as they ascended. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as Kingsley began to navigate them through the fray, and her world dissolved into nothing but the sound of her racing heart in her ears and the flashes of light erupting all around her as her enemies and allies alike threw out various blindingly bright colors.

A black cloaked figure rose up beside her, and before the person behind the mask could fire out a spell, she screamed out a stunning spell that had them toppling off their broom and into the sky, where she saw another similarly dressed figure snatch them before they fell too far.

Just as quickly as the first disappeared, two more appeared his place, shooting spells that she barely deflected before flinging back her own, mindful of where Kingsley attempted to shoot his own while also helping navigate their mount through the chaos of the battle. She felt a curse slash her upper arm, the sting of the fresh cut burning brightly before she could whip her head around to identify which assailant had managed to land the blow.

"Stupefy!" she screamed, and watched as twin bolts of light from both her and Kingsley's wands hit the Death Eater at the same time, and the person tumbled off their broom, disappearing into the night air until they were reduced to nothing but a speck. When she turned to her other side where the other death eater had been only moments before, she saw that Kingsley had cut that one down, too.

A new figure rose beside them, but when she raised her wand and threw out a defensive spell, it glided off the newcomer's body. When she looked more closely at the cloaked figure that drifted through the air without assistance beside them, her mouth froze open in a scream as cold dread filled her heart.

This floating, disfigured, half-human creature was none other than Voldemort himself.

Terror gripped her heart as she met his snake-like eyes, knowing that she was face-to-face with the embodiment of evil itself.

She steeled her resolve, raising a shaking hand as she tried to steady her wand on his figure. "Stu—" she started, but before she could finish the spell, he abruptly tore away, gliding off into the clouds.

"What—" she started to ask Kingsley when the realization hit her. He'd known, somehow, that she wasn't Harry. He'd known, which meant that–

"Harry!" she screamed. "He'll find him! We have to go back– we have to–"

"No!" Kingsley said, sparing her only a brief glance over his shoulder as yet another death eater rose before them, which he quickly deflected with the spell that sent them spinning away.

Another rose beside her, and she reacted instantly, sending them flying in a manner, not unlike the way Kingsley had sent their companion flying only a moment prior. They continued to fly through the air, and Hermione looked around with wild eyes as she awaited more attackers, although none came, filling her heart with even more dread. She wondered if they had failed, if Harry was already dead, and she had put both her and Malfoy's lives in jeopardy for no reason at all. Her heart clenched as she thought of him, wondering if her hatred of him had been justification enough for her actions while simultaneously knowing it hadn't.

She just barely registered Kingsley pressing a portkey into her hand before she was sucked into the sensation. When they reappeared, it was eerily quiet. She looked around, realizing that they were in a forest somewhere, likely very far from civilization.

"Let me see," Kingsley said, taking up her arm. She looked down at where he held her, noticing that her wound was still bleeding steadily, soaking her sleeve.

"I'm alright," she answered tonelessly. "Let's just go."

Kingsley appraised her quietly for a moment before nodding and pressing another portkey in her hand. This time, they reappeared at the Burrow, landing safely in the Wealseys' yard. Her legs began shaking then, and she felt herself sink to the ground. She vaguely registered Kingsley's grip on her arms as he stood her up straight.

"Hermione, look at me," he urged. "Are you alright?"

She nodded mutely, still trembling as she tried to focus on his words as he continued to speak.

Eventually, he seemed to realize that she was too distraught to respond, and pulled her into the house, where others from their group gathered around a prone figure on the sofa. The moment she saw the others, she counted who had returned, then gasped as Ron materialized, hugging her fiercely.

"Are you alright?" he asked, running his hands over her sides. She let herself lean into his touch, momentarily allowing herself to enjoy the comfort of his familiar embrace. "You're hurt," he said, thumbing over where blood was caked on her sleeve where she'd been slashed by a curse.

"I'm fine," she said, letting him pull her back into a hug. She was numb to the pain after all that had transpired, and it had been reduced to little more than a dull throbbing. Only moments later, Harry joined them, and the three of them wrapped in a fierce embrace.

In the end, all made it back. Moody had been gravely injured, and Hermione's heart broke for the man. Once he had been tended to and it was declared that he was expected to make a full recovery, she stayed up alongside the others as they stayed up late, recounting their experiences and tending to George's injury. It was nearing sunrise when Ginny pulled Hermione aside and lead her up to her room, where they both nearly instantly passed out from sheer exhaustion.

**X**

The next day, she busied herself by helping Mrs. Weasley around the house, deeming it necessary to keep herself occupied lest troubling memories of the previous evening invade her mind. She stopped only to let Mrs. Weasley tend to her wounded arm every few hours, which turned out to be cursed. The older woman had informed her that the wound was cursed and would continue to bleed for at least another day, ordering her to take blood replenishing potions every few hours.

She continued helping Mrs. Weasley with her tasks for the day until well into the evening when Kingsley stepped through the floo, his expression unreadable.

"You're needed at Grimmauld," he said to her after greeting those who milled around her in the kitchen, his expression unreadable.

Hermione swallowed thickly, then nodded before following him through the floo.

"We will come to seek you in your room shortly," he explained before disappearing into one of the sitting rooms.

Hermione nodded, then slowly made her way up the steps until she reached her rooms before slowly pushing open the door and stepping inside.

Malfoy was standing in the middle of the room, his back to her. His stance was tense, and he did not move as she closed the door behind herself.

"I—" she started, stopping short as he whirled on her.

"Where the fuck were you?" he seethed as he approached, his grey eyes dancing with rage.

She clamped her mouth shut but crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. "That is none–"

"Do not dare lie to me," he snapped.

"It doesn't matter where I've been, Malfoy," she shot back, ignoring the guilt that churned in her stomach as she glared back at him. "Although I thank you for your concern." She was unable to hide the bitterness in her tone, at once burdened by guilt and anger that she had to think of him now as much as she thought of herself.

He snatched her by the arms then, gripping her tightly. She gasped out a pained moan as he clutched her wound that was covered only by her sleeve, grinding her teeth to stop herself from making another noise to prevent him from discovering the true source of her discomfort.

"I know what kinds of reckless things you do with Potter and Weasel," he seethed. "I do not care what you do, only that you do not get yourself killed in to process. My mother has put her life on the line to protect your precious Order, and if you ever do anything that gets me killed and leaves her alone here–" he cut off abruptly as there was a rap at the door, dropping her arms abruptly.

Hermione gave him another glare before crossing to the door and pulling it open. Her eyes widened a fraction as Kingsley stepped aside to reveal McGonagall and none other than Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy behind him, all of whom quickly glided into the room before sealing the door shut behind them with a few select spells.

"Good evening," Hermione greeted and was met by stiff nods from the visitors.

Mrs. Malfoy looked around the sparsely furnished room disdainfully before crossing over to Draco, looking him over quickly before nodding at him and turning to the other occupants of the room.

"Tell me what happened," she demanded, irritation clear in her tone.

"We received the letter once we were already in Potter's home," Kingsley explained. "Nonetheless, it was helpful to have been warned beforehand. I believe that is the reason we were all able to return safely. Alastor Moody was gravely injured, but he is expected to make a full recovery."

Hermione felt Malfoy's accusatory gaze on her but steadily ignored him as she listened to the conversation.

"And what of the safe house?" Mrs. Malfoy asked.

"We are making preparations as we speak, and we expect to have something ready within a month's time," McGonagall answered.

Within a month. She had but a month until she would be forced to go into hiding with Malfoy, a man who was currently glaring at her with a look of such abject distaste that she wondered if he were about to hex her, regardless of their audience.

"Very well," Mrs. Malfoy said, looking around the room before her eyes landed on Hermione.

Hermione froze in the woman's icy blue gaze, feeling as though she was being picked apart by the force of it. Hermione's heart began to race as the woman crossed over to her, eyes narrowed. She met the woman's eyes with uncertainty, trying to read them. She snatched up Hermione's arm suddenly, and Hermione yelped involuntarily before biting her lip as the woman's slender fingers dug into her wound. She looked down to see a telltale patch of blood darkening the sleeve of her shirt, likely from the way Malfoy had gripped her hard only minutes prior.

"You little bitch," the woman seethed, her blue eyes dancing with rage as she glared at Hermione.

Before Hermione could utter a word, Mrs. Malfoy reared back and slapped her clean across the face, taking her breath away.

The room was silent for a beat in the wake of Mrs. Malfoy's outburst, and Hermione's cheek burned where the woman's hand had made contact.

"Mrs. Malfoy!" McGonagall cried, aghast. At that, Hermione could not help but look up upon hearing her new name, looking away ashamedly as she saw the look on her former Professor's face.

"You were  _there_?!" Mrs. Malfoy seethed at Hermione, ignoring McGonagall's words.

Hermione nodded meekly, shrinking back at the force of the woman's outburst. Mrs. Malfoy let go of her abruptly, causing her to stumble back, cradling her arm that now bled freely.

The other woman whirled on Kingsley, advancing on him with a murderous look in her eyes. "Our agreement was that they remain under the Order's watch and protection until proper arrangements could be made!"

"I am aware, Mrs. Malfoy, we–"

"If you are aware," Mrs. Malfoy snapped. "Why was she there when she was to be forbidden from leaving Order custody?"

Hermione wanted to object to the idea of being imprisoned like a misbehaving child but feared the look on her mother in law's face. Beneath the anger, Hermione could clearly see the fear the woman felt at the prospect of losing her child, instantly filling Hermione's body with remorse. Perhaps she deserved to be treated like a child — she had acted irrationally and was now facing the consequences of what had almost come to pass. She shivered again as she recalled Voldemort's inhuman face so close to hers, an aching chill settling in her bones once more at the reminder.

"Her life is  _tethered_  to that of my son!" Mrs. Malfoy snapped, pressing her wand into Kingsley's chest. "I entered into this agreement under no uncertain terms — you will protect him as well as you would protect one of Potter's most precious friends or I  _will_  find a way to raze your Order." Her voice had gone chillingly even, ringing with promise as she leveled Kingsley with a deadly glare.

Before anyone else could speak, Mrs. Malfoy disillusioned herself and left, letting the door slam behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we're past Hogwarts and into the summer, we're nearing the end of canon events I'm directly parallelling - chapter 9 is the last of them, and from then on this fic deviates. Glad you're all enjoying the ride so far!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much to my beta, RESimon - you're a dream.

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Hermione spent the next few days at the Burrow, the only other place she had leave to visit since it was now deemed the Order's backup headquarters in the case Grimmauld were to be deemed compromised. Mrs. Malfoy had informed Kingsley that Snape had yet to inform Voldemort of Grimmauld's location, and so he had deemed Grimmauld safe until such a time that they were made aware of Snape having decided otherwise. Precautionary wards had been erected in the meantime, but as of then things had been quiet, and the Order carried on affairs at Grimmauld like normal.

She hid out in Ginny's room under the pretense of research while avoiding Harry, Ron, and her husband alike. After her confrontation with Mrs. Malfoy, the room had descended into a tense silence after which Kingsley and McGonagall had given their apologies to her before departing themselves. She had left to sleep in the library for the night without a word to Malfoy, feeling deeply ashamed yet unwilling to deal with another confrontation with him.

And so she remained stowed away in Ginny's room, poring over books day and night until she was too exhausted to experience the troubling dreams that had followed her since the battle. Even still, during her waking hours, she was constantly reminded of the fact that her husband loomed in her room back at Grimmauld. She returned only to retrieve a change of clothing every now and again, showing her face just enough for him to know that she hadn't run off to do something reckless, risking their lives again before the war had even begun.

He was an inextricable part of her that she knew she could not avoid forever, despite her determination to do just that. Ginny had not questioned the appearance of her new roommate who she knew had her own room only a floo away, instead of welcoming her with open arms. Hermione listened to the other girl's aimless chatter as she returned to the room late at night, allowing herself to drift off to the sound of her friend's chattering as she responded only with small nods or hums of approval.

She knew that Ginny's chattering was her own form of mourning, knowing that it pained the girl deeply to see Harry in and out of the Burrow each day, sneaking off with Ron when he could so that they could make plans for the upcoming war. They had tried fruitlessly on several occasions to bring Hermione into their chats, but she had selfishly made excuses each time, despite the fact that she knew only the three of them were privy to Harry's task of finding and destroying the Horcruxes.

She wanted to make the most of the little time she had left them, but each time she saw the trust reflected in their gazes as they looked at her, her heart broke a little more and she would often find herself mumbling an excuse before stumbling off, forcing herself not to cry. Like Ginny, Hermione too was mourning - preemptively mourning the loss of her friendships as the day she would be leaving them drew closer.

Late one afternoon, Hermione stepped through the floo at the Burrow when Harry materialized beside her, pulling her out into the garden behind him despite her protests.

"What is going on with you, Hermione?" he said when they were alone, casting a quick  _muffliato_.

Hermione sighed. "It's nothing, Harry," she said, shuffling her feet.

"You've been so cold and distant—"

"The battle just took a bigger toll on me than I thought it would, is all—"

"—for months now!" Harry finished.

She opened her mouth then closed it again, feeling exhausted as she tried to search for another excuse. "It's nothing," she repeated, knowing her words would only hurt him further.

"You won't even look at me half the time," he said, his voice sad.

She looked up at him then, her lip trembling as she bit back the words that threatened to spill from her mouth. His bright green eyes shone with equal parts anger and sadness, and she longed to let the words burst forth. _I married Malfoy. The Order asked me to. I found out that you were right about the attempted murders when it was already too late. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

"When he died…" Harry said. "You weren't there, Hermione. You were just…gone."

"Harry," she whispered, searching his eyes. He was broken, buckling under the pressure of the burden he had been forced to carry. A lone tear slipped free from her eye then, and she didn't bother to wipe it away, knowing that more were likely to follow.

"Why did you go?" he asked, moving only to swipe a thumb across the tear that had fallen. "Ron— he's been trying to hold it in, but he's hurting, too."

A lump rose in her throat as she thought of the sad longing she'd seen reflected in Ron's eyes each time she'd turned away from him over the months. She bit her lip nervously, averting her eyes from Harry's searching gaze.

"So that's it, then," Harry said. "Are you afraid because we might have to run together?"

"Yes," she whispered, omitting the fact that yes, they would be running together — but not with her.

Harry reached out and squeezed her arm. "If this isn't — if  _he_  isn't what you want, you need to try harder make it absolutely clear to him instead of letting him hold out hope," Harry said knowingly. "Not knowing…not knowing is killing him. But…he'll understand. Things will be alright — we need you, Hermione, and we would never leave you behind."

Instead of answering, she drew him into her, allowing her tears to wet his jumper as she let him soothe her gently, all the while completely ignorant of her impending betrayal.

**X**

After Harry's confrontation, Hermione decided to throw herself into preparing Harry and Ron the best she could for the time that they would be apart. She spent her days either helping with wedding planning or researching and planning with Harry and Ron. She subtly picked at the holes in their plans, ensuring that their plan to run and any contingency plans wear airtight, foolproof to the point that her missing presence would not be as glaringly obvious as it otherwise would have been. It still pained her each time she heard them refer to the three of them as "us", each day bringing her closer to the sad truth that they were no longer a trio. She maintained a careful distance from Ron, rebuffing even his friendliest gestures. More often than not, she caught him looking at her with a pained longing, and it hurt doubly as much when she would catch Harry's sad, knowing looks as he observed them.

She had begun sleeping at Grimmauld once more, but only returned to their room late at night when she was too exhausted to bother arguing with Malfoy. He ignored her as much as she did him, and she knew not what he did during the day besides perusing the bookshelf that she had kept filled since they had been assigned their room. When she returned to the room, he was often either skimming absently through a book or curled up on the sofa, asleep. She suspected that many of those times he was not actually asleep, especially when she woke early in the mornings to leave. She paid him no mind regardless, and the short amounts of time they spent together were usually shrouded in tense silence.

This night had been no different than the dozen or so that had passed since they'd arrived, and she had just come from the shower, dressed in her nightclothes and preparing to go to bed when there was a soft knock at the door. Her eyes widened as she realized that the knock that had come was not Kingsley's familiar pattern. She looked at Malfoy, who had perked up slightly and was also looking at the door.

"Who is it?" she called.

"It's me, 'Mione," Ron answered. "I won't leave until you talk to me — why is your door warded?"

Bollocks. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks. She gestured at Malfoy to go into the loo, and he scowled back at her from where he sat on the sofa.

"Please," she pleaded in a whisper.

He scowled for a moment longer before standing stiffly and going into the loo, slamming the door behind him with more force than necessary.

Her heart race as she crossed over to the door, resting her hand on the knob. "It isn't–it just isn't a good time right now," she said.

"It never is with you these days, 'Mione," he said, and the tone of his voice pained her. Her hand tightened on the knob as she debated whether to let him in. In a moment of either desperation or stupidity —she knew not which – she pulled open the door to reveal him standing there, looking lost and sad.

"Ron," she whispered, pulling him inside and letting the door shut behind him. She cupped a hand over his cheek and he leaned into it, closing his eyes as he almost nuzzled into her hand. He lifted a hand to her waist, and she stepped back automatically, eyes downcast.

"Why do you always pull away from me?" he asked.

She bit her lip, still not looking at him. "I don't–"

"You do, 'Mione — every time," he sounded so sad, so helpless, that she could not help looking up at him, only to see the emotions reflected tenfold in his blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said truthfully — for once.

"Sorry for what?" he asked. "I understand nothing of what has been going on with you, and when I ask all you have to say is sorry even though I have no idea what is going on."

"For everything," she whispered, knowing he wouldn't understand that either.

"Is it – is it me?" he worried hand through his hair. "Did I muck up that badly with the Lavender thing? If I need to spend the rest of my life begging for your forgiveness, I will," he added sincerely, stepping closer to her.

She forced herself not to step back again but still looked away all the same. "It's not you, it's me," she answered lamely, knowing he would detect the falsity in her voice.

"How could it be you?" he said, stepping closer until he could cup her cheek this time. "You're perfect," he murmured. "You're – everything to me."

She squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to let the tears that have gathered there fall. "Don't say that," she whispered.

"I speak nothing but the truth," he said determinedly.

She didn't respond, but still — selfishly – allowed herself to languish in the warmth of his hand on her cheek.

"Please look at me," He begged.

She blinked her eyes open, knowing that he would see the unshed tears that had gathered there.

"'Mione," he whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She felt trapped in the warmth of his blue eyes, knowing that she needed to look away, to send him away, but somehow frozen in her spot. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek where a tear had fallen, and she did not stop him. He began a soft trail of kisses down her face, and when his last kiss landed on her lips, she did not stop that one, either.

Instead, she surged forward suddenly, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled him closer. He paused for a moment, startled, before he responded enthusiastically, moaning into the kiss. She could feel a coil of caged heat gathered low in her belly, trying desperately to claw itself free while being suppressed by the magic that bound her in marriage to another. Still, she longed to free it, and she stepped back only to let her dressing gown drop to the floor, pulling Ron's face back down to hers a moment later as she moved them back toward her bed.

"Please," she gasped as they fell back onto the bed in a heap, tugging up her nightgown. She rolled her hips against him, feeling the bulge of his hardness against her core.

"Hermione," Ron moaned, dragging her back into a kiss.

She continued to rut against him, feeling his length rubbing against her quim through the thin layers that separated them. The heat in her belly continued to claw desperately at its cage, aching for release.

She vanished her knickers wandlessly, exposing her bare pussy to the chill of the room. She ran desperate hands down his bare chest after vanishing his shirt, too, hurriedly undoing his trousers as she chased even the slightest spark of pleasure. Ron moaned, moving to kiss her neck as he rutted his now-bare length against her core as she let his cock spring free. She was still nearly completely dry, and her eyes flew open as she felt the discomfort of the sensation. She vanished her nightgown altogether then, desperate for even the smallest hint of pleasure as she pressed her bare skin against his.

She dragged him down atop her as he continued to grind himself against her core, trying to ignore the discomfort. She blinked her eyes open for a moment, then widened them as she saw Malfoy glaring darkly at her from where he had inched open the door to the loo, watching them. He met her eyes then, and she gasped at the dark intensity that swirled within them.

She dragged her hands back to tug at Ron's head from where he had latched onto her neck, tearing her eyes away from her husband's glare.

"Ron," she called. "Ron — stop," she pleaded quietly.

He looked up at her as he panted heavily, his pupils still blown with lust. "What is it?"

"I can't," she said.

He pulled back, his features awash with confusion.

"I'm sorry, Ron, I just—"

He stood abruptly, pushing himself off the bed as he stared at her in disbelief.

"You just what, 'Mione?" he snapped down at her, his usually kindly blue eyes blazing with anger. "Tell me so that I can understand! You talk in circles, then contradict yourself with your actions!" His chest was heaving in anger with his words.

She swept her eyes over him, from the hard planes of his muscled chest down to where his hard, leaking cock hung from his trousers, wishing desperately that she could make love to him again.

"I can't," she said finally. "We— we can't."

This time, Ron didn't argue. Instead, he turned and stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him, plunging the room into silence.

The door to the loo flew open an instant later and her husband stalked out, bearing down on her. His eyes scanned her slowly, and it was then that she recalled her nakedness. She scrambled to cover herself as she summoned her dressing gown from where she'd discarded it on the floor, flushing deeply. Malfoy caught her flush and sneered at her.

"You are a filthy little slut," he spat. "But perhaps this is how you've always been? How many times have you spread your legs for Potter and Weasley over the years? It's no wonder you were so quick to spread them for me as well."

She scrambled into her dressing gown, which barely covered her fully. Since she had taken it off, the belt had been separated from the dressing gown itself and she was left to hold it closed with only her hands.

"Go away, Malfoy," she shot back even as she filled with shame.

"And where exactly do you propose I go?" he snapped. "I've been banished to this bloody room with my whore of a wife for two weeks!"

"And you think that I desire to be here, stuck with you?" she shouted back. "I hate you! The very thought of your presence in my life disgusts me!"

"Do you think that you don't disgust me? You almost got us bloody killed!" he shouted back. "And for what?! Saint fucking Potter?" he spat Harry's name as if it were a curse.

"Don't talk about Harry like that!"

"Oh, shall I talk about your precious lover, then?" he sneered. "The bloody fucking Weasel that you were about to let fu—"

"Shut up!" she screamed. "Shut up! Shut up!" she stood up and shoved him in the chest.

He snatched her wrists, holding them with bruising force as she tried to squirm away. "I told you not to dare hit me, Granger, or I  _would_  make you regret it."

"Let go of me!" she snapped, snatching her arms back. "You call me a whore, but you are nothing but a cold-hearted  _murderer._  You did it — I know you did, you tried to kill Dumbledore, too, didn't you? Harry told me you were there, he told me you wanted to do it—"

"You know nothing about me or the things that I've done!" he thundered. He was shaking with rage as he stalked forward, drawing close enough that their chests barely touched. The unbridled rage in his expression caused a spark of fear to rise within her, and she found herself stumbling backward onto the bed, not having realized that he had stalked forward until they were pressed against it.

"You know nothing of me or the things I've done!" he thundered again, leaning forward until his tense, muscled arms were on either side of her like a cage.

He had moved so close that she could feel his warm breath fanning over her face with his words, and she could not help sweeping her eyes over his body as he loomed over her in a fashion not unlike how Ron had been only minutes prior. Her frustration hadn't yet abated since Ron had left, and she now found herself all but arching into Malfoy, the heat that had been building within her having been released from its cage in a sudden inferno, drawing her toward him. She felt betrayed by her body that that had decided to release the torrent of heat that now pooled between her legs, leaving her practically pulsating with want for him alongside her hatred of him. When she looked back up at his eyes, she found them trained on her body, and her eyes widened as she realized that she had once again let her dressing gown come undone during their argument. His eyes slid back up her body until he met hers, and grey eyes met brown for one intense moment.

She broke the moment, scrambling backward and pulling her dressing gown closed, at once both flushing and glaring at him. He said nothing, but turned and went back into the loo, slamming the door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ron, I know. As a reminder - this fic does not follow all of the canon events of Deathly Hallows. It only follows canon for the first 9 chapters before deviating - this fic is a completely different story. On that note, only one more chapter of canon parallels until we deviate. Thank you all for following so far, you're all so wonderful!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you were upset by the Ron developments in the last chapter, but I felt it was necessary to show the messy end of their relationship because Hermione did have feelings for him that couldn't be ignored. Up until the end of this chapter I was loosely following canon events, and her feelings for Ron were a part of canon at the time (I know that they hadn't slept together in canon at this point either, but I also thought it was important that Hermione had lost her virginity to someone of her choosing before marrying Malfoy). In this iteration of events, she is very much conflicted by her lingering feelings for Ron and her duty to Malfoy, who she knows very much despises her at this point in time. 
> 
> So much love for my beta, RESimon - thank you for all that you do.

**CHAPTER NINE**

There was a knock at the door then, and Hermione started before crossing over and cracking it open, wary of who could have been standing outside. She was surprised to see that it was none other than Harry, who stared back at her with wild green eyes as he craned his neck, trying to see into the room behind her. She let the door open further, relieved that it was only Harry.

"What happened?!" he asked, eyes roving around the room before they landed on her and he began blushing furiously, immediately whirling around so that his back was to her. "Sorry!"

She blinked, then looked down at where his eyes had landed before letting out a small gasp. Yet again, the tie on her dressing gown had come undone while she'd been distracted, and at that moment she decided that she would burn the blasted thing at her earliest convenience.

"What happened, Hermione?" Harry asked again. His back was still turned, and his voice was quieter than before. "I heard yelling — are you alone up here?"

She quickly summoned her wand and transfigured her robe to make it fit better. "You—you can turn around, now Harry," she said, flushing.

He turned slowly, peeking to make sure that she was fully covered before starting to scan the room once more.

"It's nothing!" she said hurriedly. "I just— got frustrated with a book, is all," she explained.

Harry furrowed his brow. "I swear a heard a second voice though, and it sounded like a man — also, why on earth do you have wards up around your door?"

"No reason," she rushed, cursing inwardly as she thought of the time he'd likely spent calling out to her and trying the knob that she hadn't heard while arguing with Malfoy. "I just prefer not to be disturbed when I'm doing research, is all."

Harry eyed her, and she knew that he was calculating whether her words were believable or not.

"Honestly," she said, walking over and squeezing his hand.

He nodded then, sighing. "I just saw Ron and he's...upset," he explained. "I thought I would come see you, and clear things up—" his eyes widened as he took in her appearance. "Is there...someone else?"

 _Yes._  "No," she lied easily. There was still an uncomfortable stickiness between her thighs, and she shifted awkwardly at the reminder of her encounter with Malfoy only moments prior.

He gave her another uncertain look which she quelled with another fake smile.

"Actually, I should probably head in the shower now," she said, pointedly looking down at her attire.

Immediately, she had the effect she'd desired and Harry blushed deeply before nodding. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," she nodded, giving him a small, tight smile before he turned and left.

As soon as the door closed behind Harry, she flipped open her trunk and downed a sleeping potion before slipping into bed. She was fast asleep before Malfoy re-emerged.

**X**

Hermione was sitting in the sitting room that held the Black family tapestry, continuously scanning all the names that were spread across the tree. Generations of aristocratic purebloods, a tree marred by her and Ted Tonks' names. She stared at the seemingly blank space beside Malfoy's name, picturing what her portrait would look like once it was free to be revealed. She wondered if Harry would cast her face off the tree, too disgusted to look at her after her betrayal.

A throat cleared then, and the man himself stood in the doorframe.

"Hullo, Harry," she gave him a soft smile as he entered.

"Huge, isn't it?" he said, gesturing at the Black family tree.

Hermione nodded, watching as Harry walked over and perused the tapestry. Her heart stuttered when his fingers ghosted over the place where her face was, but nothing happened and it remained thankfully hidden.

"Malfoy," Harry said suddenly, and Hermione's eyes whipped up to him.

"What about him?" she tried to keep her voice even despite the fact that her heart was thundering.

"He said some strange things the night.. _.that_ night," Harry continued. "He kept saying things like 'How can you be sure?' and 'How can you keep your promise?', even as he had his wand pointed, ready to kill him. And...he talked about someone — a woman. Saying that he needed to do it because he had to protect her," Harry mused. He hadn't spoken of Dumbledore's death since his will had been read. Hermione wondered how often these thoughts had been haunting Harry, as he had spoken of what had transpired only when it was strictly necessary.

Hermione's mind reeled as she ran through all the possibilities of what Malfoy's words had meant. A woman? It couldn't have been her — certainly not. His mother, then. Had he needed to kill Dumbledore to protect his mother? None of it made sense to her, and she found herself staring hard at Mrs. Malfoy's place on the tapestry, missing Harry's next words.

"Hermione?" Harry called, and she blinked at him.

"What?"

"The locket," he repeated. "How do you suppose we'll figure out who RAB is?"

Hermione didn't answer for a long moment, eyes still trained on Mrs. Malfoy's portrait. She looked beautiful and serene, entirely unlike the woman who had been burning with rage in her room only a few weeks prior. She hadn't seen the woman since, although Kingsley occasionally delivered letters from her which she left on the desk in their room for Malfoy to find. Her eyes roved the tapestry once again, and she froze a moment later as they landed upon a particular portrait.

"RAB," she murmured, crossing over to stand beside Harry. "Regulus A Black," she said, thinking back on the name she'd seen scrawled in the corner of a few of the books on the shelf in her room.

Harry looked at her, eyebrows raised. "You don't think—?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "It could be a coincidence, but…"

"We'll need to find out. But how? Who would know enough about the Black family that—"

"Kreacher," she interjected, shivering at the thought of the frigid old elf. Since she'd returned for the summer, she'd oft caught him giving her long, intense looks. She feared that he knew about her marriage to Malfoy, but he had yet to say anything. Yes, if there was anyone who had the information they sought, it would be him. She suspected that he knew much, much more than he let on.

"I'll summon him now," Harry said. "Maybe we can find it by tomorrow—" he was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley's voice calling out for them, likely in search of extra hands to aid with the last of the preparations before the wedding. It would be held in only a few short days, and the mere thought of it filled Hermione's heart with dread.

She followed Harry to the kitchen and was surprised to see McGonagall sitting at the table alongside Mrs. Weasley.

"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley said as they approached. "Come along, I need you to help rearrange the…" her voice floated away as she lead Harry out of the room, presumably toward the nearest floo.

"I would like to speak with you," McGonagall said. Hermione watched as she cast a few spells at the entry to the kitchen, shrouding them in privacy.

"We've prepared a safe house for you and Mr. Malfoy," she said. "I am the Secret Keeper, and only myself, Kingsley and Alastor are aware of its exact location."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the mention of Moody's name.

"He has sworn himself to secrecy just as we have," McGonagall explained. "We thought it necessary that he be made aware, as both he and Kingsley will be coordinating the Order and its missions."

Hermione nodded. "When must we leave?"

McGonagall gave her a solemn look. "As soon as possible."

Hermione gaped at her. "Just— just like that?" her eyes swung to the doorway where Harry had disappeared earlier, and she frantically tried to recall the last words he'd spoken to her, the last time he'd directed a smile at her —

It could have been the final friendly gesture she'd received from him, and the memory was already slipping away.

She bit her lip to keep it from trembling as she looked down at the table. "Just— give me a few days, please," she whispered. "I don't want to leave Harry right before his birthday, and the wedding…"

McGonagall sighed.

"I will go right after the wedding, I promise," Hermione said, looking up at the woman.

She could see the conflict in McGonagall's eyes and continued to give her the most pleading look she could muster. She was desperate for these final moments with her friends before she betrayed them by leaving, living out the rest of her life — however long it would be — in isolation with a husband who loathed her.

McGonagall nodded then, sighing once more. "I know this has been a difficult situation, Mrs. Malfoy," she said. "I thank you — the Order thanks you — for handling it with such grace."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said. She wanted to smile, but she could not muster it. Instead, she reached over and have the woman's hand a squeeze before leaving, intent on filling her day with wedding preparations in lieu of fretting over troubling thoughts.

**X**

Bill and Fleur's wedding was beautiful. The Weasleys had outdone themselves in decorating the tent that they had erected in their yard, creating an enchanting scene within. Its beauty was all the more enhanced by the cheerful atmosphere that the wedding guests and Weasleys alike emitted. Her heart swelled with sadness as she recalled the tense, somber affair that her own wedding had been. While this bride and groom celebrated with all of their closest friends and family members, her own had been shrouded in secrecy to the point where even her closest friends who sat around the table with her at that moment had no idea that the large diamond and emerald ring, which felt especially heavy on her finger that night, even existed. Her own parents were ignorant of her nuptials, and the thought of them made her grip her arm painfully until the tears that threatened to fall abated. When she finally let go, there was a bright red welt left behind, marring her skin like a physical representation of her shame.

Tonight would be the last night for an indeterminate amount of time that she would see most of these faces that she had grown to love so dearly over the years. She realized that she had no idea if she would live out this war, or if anyone that was currently participating in the festivities under the tent would, either. Everyone had been doing their utmost to enjoy the remaining time they had left before the war that had been brewing burst forth and rendered them unable to put it to the back of their minds any longer. For now, she would force herself to put on the widest, falsest, smile in her repertoire, and file away her final memories of her loved ones so that she might cling to them in her darkest moments.

Currently, Malfoy was awaiting her at her parents' home. She had taken advantage of Grimmauld's emptiness to sneak him away just before the wedding ceremony began, assuring him that she would return for him by nightfall so that they could depart for their safe house once McGonagall arrived to escort them. For now, though, both women were in attendance at the wedding, and Hermione resolved herself to glean as much enjoyment from the night as she could.

Everyone at her table was chattering amongst themselves, and she was the only one kept to herself. Harry sat next to her, creating a buffer between her and Ron, who had yet to speak to her since the incident in her room just days prior.

She looked past Harry to Ron, who paused mid-sentence when he felt her eyes on him. When he looked back at her, his eyes were hard and cold, devoid of the love and adoration and she had seen in them before he left her room. She had broken his heart, and the knowledge of it broke her own in return. She tried to give him a small smile, and was met by him shoving his chair back angrily and storming off, disappearing into the crowd on the dance floor.

Harry gave her a small, sad smile, then stood himself, offering her a his hand. "A dance?" He asked.

She gave him a watery smile and nodded, letting him take her hand. On the dance floor, he twirled her and danced in circles around her until she couldn't help but giggle. The moment he saw her smile, he gave her a beatific smile in return, and she felt her heart crumbling some more as she committed the smile to memory.

"I love you, Harry," she said, pulling him into a sudden tight hug.

He froze for a moment, confused, before he hugged her back with a chuckle. "I love you too, Hermione," he laughed.

She held onto him for a few more seconds, relishing in the feel of his familiar warmth.

"Harry –" she stopped short as there was a sudden lull that fell over the room as a silvery Lynx patronus tore into the room, hovering in the air in the middle of the dance floor just before where Harry and Hermione stood. An ominous chill trickled down her spine as she saw it, knowing that nothing good could have come from it.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

In an instant, chaos erupted.

She turned and grabbed Harry, whose wide green eyes were still trained on the spot where Kingsley's patronus had been only a moment prior. "Find Ron!" She screamed, whipping her head around frantically she searched for his familiar shock of red hair. At that moment, however, there were several such heads fleeing and disapparating all around them.

She made to run towards one of the taller heads when her arm was snatched suddenly and she whipped around to see McGonagall gripping her arm. "Go, go now!" she said as she shoved a small pouch into Hermione's hands before running out of the tent.

It was then that Hermione focused enough to hear screams that had begun outside. They were here. She saw a flash of black hair and began charging towards it, fighting her way through the crowd of panicked wedding guests as they screamed the names of those they were searching for. As she neared the person she was heading for, relief slid in before her panic for a fleeting moment as she recognized Harry and Ron standing together, looking around frantically.

When Harry's eyes landed on her he sighed in relief, reaching out to grab her arm. "We have to go —" he started.

She shoved her beaded handbag into Ron's hand, where he looked down at it, then up at her for a confused moment. "No – _you_ need to leave," she said, fishing in the glamoured pocket she had made in her dress to pull out a small bundled handkerchief.

"What–" Ron started, eyes widening as she unwrapped the handkerchief to reveal the small coin she had made into an illegal portkey.

"I'm sorry," she said, before dropping the coin into Harry's hand just as she snapped up Ron's empty one and closed it over Harry's. The last thing she saw before they disappeared were the twin looks of confusion on their faces.

She swallowed back the sobs that threatened to escape before she pulled out her own wand and disapparated.

**X**

She reappeared in the barren living room of her former family home that was furnished only by a few sparse pieces of furniture that were covered by sheets. She made to take a step forward when she was snatched back suddenly, a hand clapping over her mouth while she was dragged into a dark corner.

She screamed and flailed under her attacker's grip, her sounds and movements muffled by his hold on her.

Her husband cursed in her ear, still holding her in his iron grip. "Stop, it, Granger!" he said in an angry whisper. "We have to be quiet."

She tried to crane her neck and ask him what on earth he was going on about when she heard it. Laughter.

It was not the hearty, joyful laughter that most of her night had been filled with until tragedy struck, but a humorless, bone-chilling cackling that instantly made her blood run cold. Her eyes widened as realized who the laughter likely belonged.

Death Eaters.

She craned her neck as far as Malfoy's grip allowed, and she could see out the large bay window in the living room from just beyond the shadows they stood in. There were several dark-robed and silver-masked figures on the street outside, their loud laughter continuing to float in clearly through one of the cracked windows. Her heart started to race as she knew that it was no coincidence that they had appeared at the home of Harry Potter's best friend on the same night they'd attacked the Burrow.

"Where is the safe house?!" Malfoy whispered urgently into her ear.

She felt numb as she nodded down to the pouch she still clutched in her fingers. She vaguely felt him tearing it from her grasp as she watched the Death Eaters outside laughing amongst themselves, horror creeping into her heart as she went through the many things they could have been preparing to do.

Just then, a jet of flame erupted from the end of one of their wands, flying toward the window in the shape of a snake that jetted through the glass as though it were butter, shattering it. Malfoy dragged her out of the way, and she screamed as she saw the flames immediately engulf the place where they had just been standing. She screamed the second he removed his hand from her mouth, sobbing as he dragged her through the house while the flames licked at their heels. He stopped only to press something into her hand, and before she realized what was happening she felt the familiar tug of portkey travel at her navel.

And then they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand the isolation officially begins! Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this one.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to my beta, RESimon - [please go shower her with some love!](https://resimonfics.tumblr.com/)

**CHAPTER TEN**

They landed in heap on the hardwood floor of an unfamiliar cabin. Almost as soon as they landed, Malfoy dropped her arm and began moving about the place, inspecting it. She was frozen with shock, and it took minutes for her to be able to merely crane her neck around the room, inspecting its contents.

It was a small cabin, and they had landed on the kitchen floor near the front door. The kitchen itself was sparse, containing only a few basic appliances and was dominated by a small table and chairs. The wall opposite her was covered in a series of large maps that she noticed detailed the entirety of Britain, as well as many parts of Europe. There was a large desk underneath it, in addition to a tall, mostly empty bookshelf. There was a small living room that had two small sofas in it, and a closed door on one wall that she suspected led to the loo. There was another door on the opposite side of the living room whose door stood ajar, and she spied her husband within.

After hesitating for a moment, she crept up to the open doorway and saw that it was a small bedroom that was furnished only with a bed that could moderately fit two people, a dresser, and a tall mirror. Malfoy stood staring at the bed with his arms crossed.

"You can have the bed," he broke the silence.

"Why did you make us leave?" her voice was quiet but hard.

He turned to her, his eyebrows raised incredulously. "In case you did not notice," he spat, "we were about to be consumed by fiendfyre."

"I know the counter curse! My  _home_  was being consumed by fiendfyre!" she snapped back, balling her fists in rage. "That was my home," she added in a broken whisper.

He stepped over to her, bearing down on her in two long strides. "We have to survive this war," he snapped. "And that means that you cannot risk of our lives again for petty things."

"You think that my childhood home is a petty thing?!" she asked, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. "I don't know why at this point, but your utter lack of humanity continues to appall me."

His features twisted with rage. "You know nothing –"

"Then tell me!" She shouted. "Tell me so that I can understand! Every time you give the same answer, and I understand none of it!" She thought of Harry's words about what Malfoy had said the night Dumbledore died, about his denial when she asked him if he had been trying to poison Ron, about why Dumbledore would have tasked her with this — with  _him,_ knowing what he had done. None of it made any sense, and her exhaustion with the situation overran her anger as she yearned to know why this was all transpiring.

He was breathing heavily, and she met his eyes unwaveringly. They stayed like that for a long beat, and he did not move.

"I'm going to take a walk," she said finally, turning away and exiting without another word.

It was a small cabin in a densely packed forest, and there was nothing around but the sounds of creatures in the night and her soft breaths. It was a chillier than normal evening, and the low sweep of her dress robes caused the chill of the air to settle across her shoulders and collarbone. She cast a quick warming charm on herself and stepped off the small porch, immediately feeling ridiculous in her heeled shoes on the soft grass.

Sighing, she sat down on the porch instead, immediately basking in the calmness that had descended upon her once she'd removed herself from the tension within the cabin. She contemplated transfiguring them for a moment before unbuckling them and sliding them off her feet gently, looking at the glint of the crystals they were adorned with in the moonlight. She'd borrowed them from Ginny for the wedding, and she had hoped to return them to the girl that night. Now, though, the shoes were one of the last things she had from her, and she decided she would cherish them until she could finally return them. She methodically cast cleaning and preservation charms on the shoes until they glittered as bright as ever before carefully shrinking them and stashing them away in her robes.

She thought of Ginny's smile the day before as she'd presented Hermione with the shoes, insisting that they would match beautifully with her dress robes despite Hermione's hesitation. She had thought them gaudy at first, but once she'd put them on had accepted that they had indeed matched her outfit well. She recalled dancing with Harry and enjoying that last intimate moment with him as she relished in the company of her best friend. And…

She thought of Ron, whom she'd been steadily falling in love with for Merlin knew how long with. She recalled the night last November that she'd given him her virginity so long ago that it felt like another lifetime. She bit back tears as she recalled the heartbreak in his eyes when she'd rejected making love to him, leaving him awash in confusion as he'd left the room, completely unaware of her secret husband who had been lingering only feet away. She had wanted to tell him everything, so many times, and each time the words or the lies she'd thought of to cover up her peculiar actions had always stopped short of leaving her mouth. Every time she'd met his kind blue eyes she'd known that she couldn't lie to him, and so she had broken his heart even further by saying nothing at all.

She slipped a hand into her pocket and clenched it around the parchment inside that was filled with carefully constructed lies which she hadn't been able to deliver to Ron once again before their final goodbye. She pulled it out and unfolded it before carefully siphoning back the inky black words she'd written into her self-inking quill before starting over. This time, she poured out the truth on it in as many splintered fragments as she could, writing her sorrows and apologies, telling him about her secret mission and that she knew not when she would return. She begged him to be happy, to be safe, to find someone deserving of the unwavering purity of his love even though she was not.

Writing it out hurt less than she'd anticipated, and she realized that she'd spent so much time mourning her loss of him since her marriage that she was already nearly completely detached from the relationship they'd once had. She knew that she'd mucked things up badly between them. He would either forgive her or he would not after this, but there was little she could do to rectify the situation now.

She was carefully folding the letter with the intention of heading back inside to face Malfoy once more when there was a crack of Apparition in front of her and Kingsley appeared a dozen feet away, blinking in surprise.

"Good night, Hermione," he said sombrely. "Why are you out here? Has he…?" He looked to the closed door of the cabin.

Hermione gave her a puzzled look for a moment before shaking her head. "He didn't put me out or anything," she said. "I just needed some air, is all."

Kingsley looked at her for a moment before nodding. "I know that has been a most difficult situation for you," he said in his gentle, soothing voice. "I thank you for all that you have done for the Order. I haven't much time, but I came to check on you and see how you were doing."

"I— we're fine," she said, peeking back at the closed cabin door. "How is everyone?" she asked, biting her lip as she feared his answer.

"Everyone is fine," he answered. "There were some minor injuries, but all reported back to headquarters mostly unscathed. We've set up several safe houses for the Order's use, although we are still mostly stationed at headquarters for now." He pulled out a small handkerchief and handed it to her.

She unfolded it to find a large coin within that was nearly the size of her palm.

"It's for communication," he explained. "It was the best we could do, considering the circumstances. It has a protean charm embedded in it that we will use to contact you if needed. You may use it to contact us as well, although I cannot guarantee that all messages will be answered promptly. Nonetheless, we will do our best to check on you periodically. Your fridge should continue to be self-replenishing for a few months, and there is a small muggle village a dozen or so kilometers away should you be in need of anything, but try not to go very often and use a glamour if you do."

Hermione nodded, slipping the coin in her pocket as she thought back to her DA days when she'd fashioned such coins to be used under decidedly less perilous circumstances. It was all a reflection of the stark reality of the situation that had approached them all too quickly. She swallowed as she thought about the distance there was between her and the rest of the Order, and how dreadfully cut off she was from the outside world and the ones she loved. She wondered how long it would take for her to find out if someone close to her were to be killed. Wondered if they would even bother to think of informing her at all in the chaos of it all.

"Would you like me to deliver that?" Kingsley asked, eyeing the folded parchment on her lap.

Hermione bit her lip, hesitating as she wondered if she could revise it. "Yes," she whispered before she could change her mind. "To Ron, please," she said, before pulling out the other that had remained in her pocket. "And Harry," she added.

He looked down at the letters before looking back up at her, a question in his eyes.

"I didn't say anything," she said resignedly. "I know how imperative it is that Narcissa's allegiances remain as secret as possible." The Order had already been betrayed by one of its spies, and there could be no risk of another leak.

Kingsley gave her a sad, knowing nod before he began making his way up the steps. "I will be out shortly," he said.

She nodded, listening to the click of the door as he entered. This was her new reality — her world was now contained to this small cabin and the man within. Draco Malfoy — her husband.

Kingsley emerged only a few minutes later, squeezing her shoulder as he stepped past her, bending down to whisper an address in her ear. "One of the other safe houses, should you need to go there in an emergency," he explained.

"Be safe," he said simply before walking into the grass and disapparating.

Eventually, she sighed, standing and making her way back into the cabin. Malfoy was still seated on the sofa where she'd left him, and she saw a small pile of letters sitting on the sofa beside him, likely having just been delivered to him from Kingsley.

"Malf—Draco," she called softly.

He looked up, quirking an eyebrow at her. "So the Whore of Gryffindor has decided to grace me with her presence once again."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "I apologize for what you witnessed," she said evenly. "It was a rather immature oversight of mine."

"And how many times have you fucked him while I wasn't present, I wonder?"

"Once," she decided to answer truthfully. "Before we were married. How many times did you try to sleep with Pansy  _after_  we were married?" she added, raising an eyebrow as she recalled seeing them disappear into the dark stacks of the library together on several occasions over the months. She had even caught them snogging in an abandoned classroom at one point, and her stomach rolled in disgust as she recalled Pansy undulating against Malfoy's near-rigid form. She now understood how much he must have struggled to gain even the smallest hint of satisfaction from their encounters, recalling the nearly painful friction of Ron's body rutting against hers.

He said nothing and only glared at her in response.

Hermione sighed. "I don't — I won't fight with you anymore, Draco," she said. "I meant it when I said that I want to understand. When you're ready to talk…I promise you that I'll listen," she said.

He said nothing still, and she sighed again, picking up her shrunken trunk from where he'd left it on the small coffee table. "You can have the bedroom this time," she said, dropping her trunk in the corner and enlarging it.

"Take the bedroom, Granger," he said, flicking his wand and making her trunk go flying through the open bedroom door. She heard it hit the ground behind her with a loud  _thunk_.

"Malfoy!" she snapped, having just barely ducked to miss getting clocked in the head by it.

"Go," he repeated simply, standing and going into the loo.

**X**

By the time she emerged to shower the next morning, Malfoy was sitting up on the sofa, dressed and alert. "Hurry up," he said simply as he observed her bathrobe with disdain.

She shifted uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, feeling naked under his hard stare. He had, of course, already seen it all, and she felt equally ridiculous for trying to hide her body from him. Nonetheless, a blush tinged her cheeks as she hurried into the bathroom without a word, emerging a short while later to find that he had already moved the furniture to make a large, empty space in the middle of the cabin.

"Have you eaten?" she asked, eyeing the kitchen which looked untouched.

"We can eat later," he said simply. He appraised her outfit slowly, his face twisted in disgust.

"What?" she asked, tugging her t-shirt down lower over her leggings.

He grumbled something that sounded distinctly like "muggles" under his breath before whipping out his wand and throwing a spell at her with lightning-fast speed.

She barely lifted her own wand in time to deflect the spell, glaring at him accusingly. "Excuse me!"

"There is no time for hesitation in war, Granger," Malfoy's voice was devoid of emotion as he shot out another spell which she quickly deflected as well.

"You've trained before," he noted. He sounded neither impressed nor dismayed by the observation, and she gave him a quick nod, recalling the countless hours she'd spent practicing outside of the DA or taking self defense and martial arts classes over the summer, driven forward by the sheer terror of the idea that a war was looming, and the person — the creature — at its helm had no other purpose but to eradicate her kind. She shivered as she recalled his inhuman form floating beside her on that dreadful night.

Her rumination caused her to miss Malfoy's next spell, and she found herself flying back into the wall, her head cracking against it painfully. She fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, and when she lifted her hand to where the back of her head had struck the wall, she could feel where her hair was matted with sticky blood. When she pulled back her hand, it was stained dark red.

There was a shadow over her then, and before she realized what was happening, Malfoy lifted her bodily, and she was shocked as she was suddenly pressed against the hard muscle of his abdomen. One of her hands had gotten trapped against his chest, and she flushed at the contact for a brief second before he suddenly deposited her face down on the couch, his long fingers prodding at her scalp.

"Malfoy!" she sputtered, and he ignored her, continuing to prod at the tender spot where her head still throbbed. She moved to turn her head and protest and his rough handling of her, but he held her down with his tight grip as he muttered a series of spells over her head. Instantly, she felt the throbbing ease, and when she lifted a hand to the spot where his hand had prodded only moments before, she was surprised to feel it dry and healed.

He stepped away from her, moving only to vanish the blood that she'd gotten on her hand.

"Thank you," she said when she sat up. "Where did you learn that?"

He ignored her question, assuming the position he'd been in earlier. "Get up."

She ignored him and pressed on. "Where did you learn Occlumency?" she asked, recalling how easily and forcefully he'd entered her mind the night she'd confronted him about poisoning Ron. "Where did you learn how to fight like this? Why—"

"It is none of your business," Malfoy snapped. "Now  _get up_."

"Of course it's my business!" she snapped back. "I am your wife, or have you forgotten?"

He descended upon her then, forcing her to crane her neck as he towered over to her. "You are nothing to me," he seethed. "Do not deign to convince yourself otherwise."

"Despite how much you may pretend that I am not," she snapped, "you will one day come to accept that I  _am_  something to you regardless of if you want me to be or not, and that many of the things you do will affect me, too.  _Forever_." She met his glare with one of equal intensity, and they stayed like that for a long beat, neither backing down until he turned and stormed off, slamming the door behind him without a word.

**X**

Hermione spent the rest of the evening locked in the bedroom, fully intent on ignoring her husband until it was absolutely necessary that she exit. She read and snacked on the dried fruit she'd had stashed in her trunk, the parchment she'd brandished steadily filling with notes as the hours passed. Unfortunately, the time crept up on her quicker than she would have hoped, and she felt herself itching to use the loo by the time late evening descended. Sighing once she realized that she could delay no longer, she pulled open her door with the intent to rush into the bathroom and back into the room without sparing her husband a glance.

She made it only one step out of the door before she froze.

Malfoy stood in front of his trunk and had been rifling through its contents when she had pulled open her door. It would not have been out of the ordinary except for the fact that he was completely naked, his damp towel on the couch and the bundle of clothing in his hands evidence that he had just emerged from the shower.

She could not help scanning his body slowly, taking in the defined muscles that had only ever been hinted at beneath his clothing. Her eyes traveled lower still to where his long cock hung soft and heavy between his legs, nestled in a thick patch of pubic hair that was as blonde as the hair on his head. It had technically once been inside of her, yes, but this was the first time she had actually  _seen_  it. It was thick and tinged slightly pink, and she felt a tingling between her legs as she tried to recall what the sensation of it inside her had been like.

It was at that moment that she registered the fact that she was staring at Malfoy's cock, and her eyes snapped back up to his face. He was still as frozen as her. Only seconds had passed during her appraisal, but her face still flamed and she squeaked an apology before rushing into the loo, slamming the door behind her.

By the time she worked up the nerve to re-emerge, Malfoy was dressed in a pair of long pyjamas and appeared to be fast asleep. She rushed back into her room without another glance, her face still flaming and her heart still thundering after what had occurred.

**X**

Hermione spent the next day exploring their small cabin. The combined kitchen and dining area was small, but it held all of the basic appliances that they would need, in addition to having cabinets filled with food and ingredients. She made a meal for both of them, leaving his on the coffee table in front of where he lay on the couch, thumbing through a book with an unmarked cover. He had a paused only to raise an eyebrow momentarily at her, and she had said nothing before returning to the dining table to resume her own meal.

After lunch, she began unpacking her trunk, folding the few clothes she had into the room's small dresser. It felt strange and almost perverse to be doing something so domestic while she waited with bated breath to hear news of her friends, wondering what sort of chaos was occurring around them while she had been forced into isolation. She paused when she reached the pile of books that she had brought with her, unsure of how to proceed. She had spent as much time as she could before they had left trying to find out as much as she could about Horcruxes, even perusing the Black family library's darkest titles in hopes that she would find something, to no avail. Although she had prepared for them as much as she could— stuffing every possible thing she thought that they could possibly need to run on short notice in her magically-extended bag— she knew that the most crucial thing they needed to win this war depended highly on her, and she had yet to deliver it.

Just as she was bound to secrecy about her marriage, Harry had made them promise to keep what they knew about Horcruxes between themselves, and she had a feeling that even with her gone they would continue to abide by that. Kingsley hadn't mentioned how often someone would return to check on them, but she imagined that someone would be coming periodically if only to drop off whatever letters they received. She swallowed back the sick feeling that rose in her throat at the thought of how–- or if — Harry and Ron would respond to her letters, resolving herself to focus on her research and deliver her newest findings in a letter to Harry the next time someone came to check on them.

She went out into the main room and paused as she saw Malfoy looking at her from where he now sat at the dining table with a quill, inkwell, and parchment laid out in front of him. She gave him a small nod, which he did not return, before making her way over to the long desk against the far wall. She put her books away on the bookshelf, looking over the large maps that consumed the far wall. She wondered where they were positioned, feeling incredibly small in comparison to the vast areas that the map covered. They would be confined here for the indefinite future. Her heart ached for her friends, and Wizarding Britain as a whole, as she wondered how much of these areas would be consumed by the time the war reached its peak.

She set down a book she had already read through dozens of times before, determined to glean something new from it – and from every other book she'd brought — because she knew that peace in all those areas that she could see on the map relied on it. She opened the drawer next to her as she searched for a quill, and was surprised to find a single pouch inside of it instead. She picked it up, feeling several small, hard objects inside. She moved to pull it open when she noticed a small tag hanging off one of the drawstrings.

 _To St. Mungo's_ , it read.

Her blood ran cold as she tugged it open to reveal a series of small trinkets–coins, marbles, small toys, among many other things. They were portkeys, she was certain.  _To St. Mungo's,_ the tag read. So many of them, which meant that either they would be expected to be making many trips there, or that they would need to be sending others there. A chill ran down her spine as she thought of the reasons for which they would have been given these, knowing that it certainly would not be because of the former.

 _What do you mean to have us do?!_  She'd shouted at Dumbledore the night she'd figured out his careful engineering of her bonding ceremony. After he had died, she had held a fleeting hope that the Order would not pick up on the position that she and Malfoy had been played into, and that they would instead be forced into isolation and quickly forgotten about instead. But no, the pouch that felt increasingly heavy in her hands was a clear indication that they hadn't been forgotten at all.

"Granger," Malfoy called, breaking her from her trance.

"Hmm?" she said, surprised to find him standing next to her.

"Something's happening," he said, nodding his head towards the desk as he moved to pick up something. She was surprised to see the enlarged coin that Kingsley had given her was burning to the point where there was a small scorch mark left on the desk as Malfoy picked it up. She watched as Malfoy juggled it in his hands for a minute, craning her neck as she tried to read the message that was on it. When he finally settled enough for the message to read clearer, her eyes widened in shock.

 _Grimmauld has been compromised_ , it read, followed by a series of numbers.

"Do they expect us to return there?" Malfoy asked, wrinkling his brow.

She looked at the numbers curiously for another moment before she looked up at the maps she had been perusing earlier. She committed the numbers to memory, then gently took the coin from Malfoy's hand. She tapped her wand to it and sent back one word —  _Received_.

"They're coordinates," she said quietly, looking over the maps as she tried to find the corresponding location.

"There," she whispered, pointing to a space on the map. "They want us to go there."

Malfoy's jaw set hard as he looked at the location.

Her heart had begun to race as she thought of what could be awaiting them there. It was nowhere near Grimmauld, but the implications of the message they'd received meant that what they could be facing could be anything from a battle to the last vestiges of the Order that they would need to aid in relocating.

"I've been near there before," he said. "I can apparate us nearby."

She nodded mutely, looking at him to see if the fear she felt at the unknown thing they were about to face would be reflected in his features as well.

As usual, though, there was nothing, and his features were as stoic as ever.

He crossed the room to pick up his wand before nodding at her. "Are you ready?"

 _No,_  she wanted to answer. She knew not if she ever would be ready, but she nodded anyway. She knew they could not delay.

He nodded again, crossing the room and taking her arm. A moment later, they disapparated.

**X**

They landed in a small clearing, and she was surprised by how quiet it was. Darkness had already fallen outside, and she gripped the back of his shirt with a nervous hand as she followed him into the underbrush. He said nothing of her closeness, and it was eerily silent save for their breaths. Neither one of them dared to cast a  _lumos_ , knowing not what lay ahead for them. They walked for several minutes, and she started to wonder if they had come to the right location at all when he stopped suddenly.

"Here," he said, nodding ahead of them. She peeked around his tall form to see what he had nodded at. It was a crudely built shack. It was small, very small, and she had a distinct feeling that the door they faced was the only exit.

Malfoy whispered a quick  _homenum revelio_  on their surroundings, revealing that they were alone where they stood. He stepped forward then, gesturing for her to follow. She felt frozen for a moment despite the fact that she knew no Death Eaters awaited them in the shadows. When the neared the cabin, he paused again, repeating the spell.

This time, she froze. It had revealed a lone figure inside the shack, and she knew not what it meant. Was it an Order member who had come to speak with them? Or what is it a hostile death eater, poised to attack the moment they stepped through the door?

Malfoy took her hand and squeezed it in what she thought was a surprisingly intimate gesture until he dragged her forward suddenly, pulling her towards him.

"You need to focus," he said in a low voice. "I will not have you get us killed."

She nodded, focusing on the intensity of his eyes as they bored into hers. "I won't," she whispered.

He searched her eyes for a moment longer before nodding and pulling her forward, gesturing for her to stand on one side of the door while he stood on the other. He lifted his wand and then blasted down the door in a quick movement, jumping inside as the noise pierced the silence they have been shrouded until that moment. She ran in behind him, an offensive spell already tumbling from her lips when she paused, noticing that Malfoy had paused as well.

In front of them was a lone figure bound in a chair. It was a man who was slumped forward, his hair matted with blood. She took a tentative step closer, noticing the purpling bruises and cuts that littered his face.

She looked at Malfoy, whose face was hard.

"We must need to speak with him," she said, still eyeing the figure warily. "Do you…recognize him?" she asked carefully.

He shook his head sharply. "Rennervate!" he said, and the spell hit the figure squarely in the chest, causing his head to jerk back violently under the force of Malfoy's spell.

The man blinked at them for a few moments before he focused on the figures that stood before him. His face appeared even more garish now that he was facing them, and she watched as a trickle of blood dripped down over one of his eyes that had been swollen near-shut.

It was silent as they stared each other down until the man stopped to focus on Malfoy. He laughed then, and the sound came out as a strange, garbled noise that made her skin crawl.

"Draco," he said, spittle that she suspected was mixed with blood flying from his mouth as he continued to laugh. "We've been looking for you."

"Yaxley," he said, his voice hard and devoid of emotion.

"Your father's been trying to get back into the Dark Lord's graces since you went missing," Yaxley continued. "But once you return me, I'm sure your good deeds will not go unnoticed. Although I do wonder how he will take it once he realizes that you do not appear to have been kidnapped by the Order." His voice was smug even as he took sharp, painful breaths that were likely the result of injuries that were hidden under his dark robes.

Yaxley turned to Hermione then, his unswollen eye traveling over her body in a way that made her skin crawl. "And who is this, might I ask? A new recruit?"

"I apologize," Malfoy said, "but you won't be returning to the Dark Lord."

Yaxley's brow furrowed for a moment before his eye sharpened into a glare. "You little bastard," he seethed. "The Dark Lord will have your parents dismembered when he finds out of your treachery!"

"He won't be finding out," Malfoy said, raising his wand.

"Wait!" Hermione said. "Draco—"

"Potter's mudblood," Yaxley said, and when she turned to him his glare was focused on her. "Thought I knew your face, bitch," he coughed hard for a moment, and good dribbled down his chin. "I heard your screams that night," he said when he finished. "I thought you'd  _burned_."

Hermione gasped at his words, her own wand flying up to point at him, her hand shaking with rage as the memory of her home being consumed by fire snapped to the forefront of her mind.

"Where were you when your little friends broke into the Ministry, I wonder?" he continued to taunt her, somehow still managing to smirk despite the swelling in his face. "Those little fools took me straight to your precious Order, you know," he spat out a laugh. "Not even a week since our Dark Lord has finally come into power and you've already exposed yourselves. All so that he could steal a piece of jewelry. Pathetic, the lot of you—"

"We have to kill him," Malfoy snapped. "He knows too much."

"How wonderful it will be to see your mother strung up like the dirty whore she is—"

"Crucio!" Draco's spell hit the man quickly, and the cabin was instantly filled with his agonized screams.

"Stop!" Hermione screamed, dragging down Malfoy's wand.

"He knows too much," Malfoy seethed down at her. "He needs to suffer, and then he needs to die."

Malfoy raised his wand at the bound man, his hand decidedly steadier than Hermione's was as she raised her own again.

"We can't—we can't kill him," Hermione pleaded, even as her own wand stayed pointed steadily at the man. She knew not what she was going to do, only that they had to do something that lay between murder and setting him free.

This, she now knew, was why they had been sent this ominous task. If Malfoy killed him, they would never be found out and could never be subjected to trial. This — whatever occurred here on this night —would die with him.

"We can and we will," Malfoy snapped. "Av—"

"Obliviate!" she screamed before the spell could leave Malfoy's wand.

The spell hit Yaxley hard, and she felt the memories of the day sliding out of his mind and into oblivion.

"What the fuck are you doing, Granger?!" Malfoy snapped. "You know that won't work!"

She ignored him. "Obliviate!" she screamed again. "Obliviate!" she screamed the spell until she was hoarse and the man's head lolled to his chest as he muttered unintelligible words.

She rushed forward, pulling out the pouch she'd shoved in her pocket at the last second before they'd disapparated. She grabbed one of Yaxley's hands and tipped one of the portkeys into his hand, closing his fingers over it. He vanished then, leaving her alone with Malfoy.

"Where the hell is he, Granger?!" Malfoy thundered.

"I sent him to St. Mungo's," she said. "He'll—"

"St. Mungos?!" Malfoy snapped. "We were supposed to kill him and you sent him to a  _hospital_?! That is the first place that will try to recover his memories you bloody fool!"

"They won't be able to," she said, her voice quivering as she thought of what'd she'd just done.

"How do you know that?!" Malfoy was heaving with anger.

She knew because she'd pored over the plethora of tomes on memory modification in Hogwarts' library over the past year as she'd planned out how she would hide her parents when the time came. She had been precise in her actions, so precise that no memory potion or spell would ever recover most of the things he knew. Of this, she was certain.

"I was precise," she answered finally, her voice barely a whisper. "I was  _very_  precise."

Malfoy's face was still contorted in rage as she stepped up to him, wordlessly grabbing his arm and Disapparating them.

They landed in the kitchen of their cabin. Malfoy was still glaring down at her, and he snatched her by the shoulders as she turned to walk away. She could feel the heat of his hands through her shirt where they rested heavily against her shoulders as he held her, forcing her to face him. She felt equally drawn in and repulsed by the tingling feeling of his hands on her caused in her body and forced her disgust to take precedence as she took into the rage that twisted his features.

"Listen to me you bloody fool," his voice was pitched dangerously low. "There is no place in this war for your petty morality," he seethed. " _It is war._  We win, or she dies. And if you are the reason that we lose, I will take down the Order before I kill you. I do not give a  _damn_  if I follow."

His eyes were burning with a dark intensity that urged her to shrink back in fear. Instead, she wrenched herself from his grip and stalked over to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Once she was safely alone, she broke down and cried, sinking to the floor in a heap of pain and regret.

**X**

She wanted to curl up on her bed and cry herself to sleep, but she knew that she could not do so. She had just effectively reduced a man's mind to nothing but a shell of what it once was, but Malfoy…

Malfoy had been ready to kill him.

Only months ago, she'd thought that his actions were driven forward by cold cruelty that was a direct result of years of being raised while entrenched in archaic pureblood principles. But when he'd yelled at her only a short while ago, she had looked into his eyes — finally  _looked_  — and seen the desperate and fear that lingered beneath his stoic exterior. Again, Harry's recounting of what had occurred in the Astronomy Tower that night haunted her, and she knew that she looked she'd just seen in his eyes had also been there as he'd pleaded with Dumbledore, wavering as he decided whether to kill the man or not.

Malfoy was broken, deeply broken, and she had been too blind to see it.

She opened the door softly to see Malfoy sitting on the sofa, hunched over tensely with his hands buried in his hair.

"We need to talk," she said.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank those who voted for me in the Enchanted Awards 2019 in two categories: The Up to No Good Award (Best Work in Progress) for A Contract Most Inconvenient, and the Novel Novice Award (Favorite New Author)! It has been such an amazing honor to have made it to the finals, especially amongst all of the other incredible authors who were nominated. Everyone is encouraged to vote [here](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSejCxg5yHoJ0EAiNXdmO8HEplU5vCWCuyo0ip5ovSO9qWJVhg/viewform), and you can see a list of all finalists [here](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1wLzhewx2s5bczMHWryN0goVM7q43Ljr6G2YIjHDP1qg/htmlview). Please do vote for whomever you feel deserves an award and not just me - all voters are welcomed! Kudos to the admins of the Granger Enchanted Survivors group on Facebook for organizing this - you guys are incredible. 
> 
> [Here](http://blankfishxx.tumblr.com/post/184299713781/i-feel-so-incredibly-honored-to-have-made-it-to) is a link to my tumblr post about it, which also includes the lovely banners that were made for each nomination. 
> 
> As always, thank you to my beta, RESimon - you're wonderful!

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

He did not move until she approached closely enough to touch his shoulder.

He flinched away at the contact, leveling her with his signature glare. "Piss off, Granger," he snapped.

Hermione sighed, electing to sit down on the sofa beside him instead. "I don't want to fight with you anymore," she said softly.

"Then leave."

"Draco, I…" she trailed off, biting her lip. "I want to understand you."

He said nothing but continued to glare at her, his rigid stance emitting just how unwelcome she was in his presence.

"Draco," she whispered. "You know we can't go on like this forever."

He scoffed. "Yes, Granger, do continue to remind me that I've been damned to spend an eternity bound to  _you_."

Hermione closed her eyes as she let out another sigh. "I know you want to argue so we can avoid this conversation, but I won't do it anymore. If we are to survive this war together, then we need—"

"—we need to survive, and that alone. You do not need to know me, or  _understand_  me," he spat. "We are bound by duty and nothing more."

The long silence that followed was tense.

"The Order…they want us to do things for them," she said softly. "Awful things."

"Brilliant observation, Granger."

Hermione sighed, then fished out the pouch of portkeys to St. Mungo's out of her pocket and dropped it on the table. "These were left in one of the desk drawers," she said.

Malfoy glared at the pouch, the words  _To St. Mungo's_  on the label clearly visible from where they sat.

"They...someone left these for us," she said, thinking of who it could have been. She shivered at the memory of the calculating look Moody had given her the morning she'd stumbled upon their meeting, wondering if he had been the one who'd decided to take advantage of the position Dumbledore had played them into. He was cold and calculating, steadily focused on  _progress_  and  _outcomes_ and willfully blind of the casualties that the road to victory was littered with. No, definitely not Moody, she thought. Perhaps it had been Kingsley — she recalled him nursing his glass of dark liquor in the sitting room at Grimmauld, looking as though the weight of the war rested upon his shoulders. Or perhaps…

Perhaps it had been all of those who were aware of Hermione and Draco's position. She recalled the viciously angry look that had been in McGonagall's eyes after she'd left the room following the confrontation in which Narcissa had slapped her, and wondered if McGonagall had been the only one truly in her corner while they'd argued over the decision. Maybe they hadn't argued at all, and they'd agreed that the advantage Dumbledore had given them was something they could not ignore. Had it been McGonagall who had stashed these portkeys here for them while she'd prepared the safe house, giving Hermione a silent signal that there was a way to complete whichever missions came their way without murder?

Hermione was bright, and they were all aware of it. They had known that she would have figured out the reason for the maps, the coordinates, and the need for them to complete the missions that would be designated to them. And someone — not likely all, no, but at least one — had given her the option of complete obliviation instead of murder, somehow knowing that she would know how to do it in such a precise manner that their victims would be sent straight to the Janus Thickey ward, and that even Voldemort's best efforts would not recover their memories. She tried to recall how many times McGonagall had seen her carrying piles of books on Obliviation back to Gryffindor tower, wondering if the woman had figured out then about her plans for her parents during the war. She swallowed at the reminder of them, knowing that even though she had been as precise as possible, there was still a chance that they would not recover completely when the time came. Complete obliviation was not truly an out, no — in a way, it was a fate worse than death.

"I don't want to kill for them if I don't have to," she said softly.

His head snapped to her. "And that is your problem, Granger," his voice was dark. "You don't get to let your petty morality take precedence–"

"But I killed someone today, anyway," she interrupted him. "I erased everything, Draco.  _Everything._ He won't know his name, or even that he's a wizard. I've reduced him to a shell of a human being that will be sent straight to the Janus Thickey ward for the rest of his life, and that —  _that_ might just be worse than death," she rushed, heaving. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying as she recalled the glazed over look that had been in Yaxley's eyes before she'd sent him away.

"It's kill or be killed, Granger, this is war," Malfoy said roughly.

"And you think that I don't know that?!" she snapped. "I am well aware that this is war, and of what the costs of war are. I know that you take me for some ignorant fool who cannot discern necessity from feeling, but I can."

Malfoy scoffed.

"I am a muggleborn!" she exclaimed. "I am a muggleborn, and if we do not win, they will hunt me down and kill me. Kill  _us_ ," she clarified. "And I will be damned if I let that happen. There is so much more at stake here than just our lives, Draco — the lives and freedom of all muggleborns are at stake here, and I will fight for them with all that I have. But using dark magic—"

"—is what we must do, Granger, no matter the cost—"

" _That_  will bleed us dry before we've even begun!" she cut him off. "If we lose ourselves while trying to fight this, what is the point of any of it?"

"You say that you understand the costs, yet you refuse to see what is in front of us. What if Yaxley had not been bound? What if he had had his wand at the ready, and  _Adava_ flying at you before you even have the time to get a pathetic little stunner out?"

"I see it!" she snapped. "I see it, and it terrifies me. But that does not mean that I won't hold out until it is absolutely necessary, because retaining what's left of my humanity requires it."

Malfoy scoffed again. "You are pathetic and blind."

"Have you ever killed anyone, Draco?"

"It doesn't matter what I have or haven't done, only that I do what needs to be done when required," he snapped.

"I'm scared, and I can't just turn it off," she snapped back. "I know what dark magic does to you, it infects your soul—"

"It doesn't matter if my soul is infected if I'm dead, now, does it?" His voice was derisive.

"You're scared too," she said suddenly. "I…I can feel it," she breathed, shocked by the truth of it. It pulsed through her alongside her own fear, exacerbating it and building together until it felt like it was consuming her. Oh.  _Oh_.

It hit her then, why she'd been feeling nearly consumed by her fear until it had seeped into every aspect of her daily life since their marriage. He was stoic on the outside, yes, but when she focused, truly focused within — she could feel it there, as inextricable from herself as her own emotions. He had been there — he had  _always_  been there, his lifeforce so deeply connected with her own that she'd barely noticed the strength of his emotions. She recalled from her research on their bonding about how she would be able to feel only his most intense emotions. She hadn't realized how much he had buried under his stoic exterior and his pervasive occlumency shields. No, nothing could hide his most intense feelings from her, although he had certainly tried.

She looked at him, taking in his rigid stance, his hard grey eyes that betrayed nothing of what brewed within him. He had kept his emotions buried, hidden expertly from all but her. But now that she was paying attention —  _truly_ paying attention — she could sense them pulsing through him as surely as they did her. His lesser emotions were only just barely hinted at, swirls of indiscernible things that dissipated like puffs of smoke when she tried to reach out and feel them. But his fear — and his anger — were rooted so deeply within him that now that she was looking, they pulsed like a beacon to her. They brewed within her, had been brewing within her since they'd been married, clouding her rationality with their intensity as she'd stumbled through her life as it had been slowly falling apart. She thought back on her actions in the months since they'd married, how the fear and desperation that had been building within her had poisoned her every action—

And with that, she felt him slam his emotions down deeper still, attempting to suffocate them. She could still feel them, but they simmered less vibrantly, their intensity reduced although not to the caliber of the wisps of his less significant emotions.

"Draco," she whispered.

"What do you want, Granger?" he asked. His voice was resigned this time, devoid of emotion.

"I want to understand you," she repeated. She shifted minutely closer to him and was rewarded by his instant stiffening.

He said nothing still, and she sighed.

"I felt it," she whispered. "I felt it all. I thought I was scared when you said we had to leave, that I could actually taste an impending change in the air — but it was  _you_. It was always you. When I felt terrified and guilty during and after Dumbledore's funeral, that was partially you, too. During the weeks we were at Grimmauld, the sadness, frustration, desperation — that wasn't all me, either," she added. "I felt it all, Draco. I  _still_ feel it."

She wondered what he had felt from her, if her desperate loneliness had seeped into him while he'd been alone in the hotel suite he'd apparated them to, then at Grimmauld—

 _Oh._ There was so much she hadn't seen before that was now so painfully clear that her heart went out to the man in front of her. There were so many questions she wanted to ask that she did not know not where to start.

"Who trained you?" she asked after a long silence.

"My aunt," he answered softly.

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, knowing that there was only one aunt that it could have been. "Draco—" she reached out a hand toward him, but he slapped it away.

"Do not touch me, mudblood." His words carried no bite.

"Did she teach you Occlumency, as well?" she asked when it was clear that he would volunteer no more.

He turned to glare at her, his grey eyes swirling with anger and resentment.

"Did  _he_  threaten to kill your mother if you didn't kill Dumbledore?" her voice was a whisper, but the words hung heavy in the air between them.

He did not answer, but his silence spoke volumes.  _We win or she dies,_  he had said earlier.

The truth had been slowly falling together before her in fragments, and it was now laid bare before her with blinding clarity. Voldemort had threatened to kill Narcissa if Draco did not kill Dumbledore on his behalf. She'd known that the Malfoy family had fallen from Voldemort's good graces after Lucius Malfoy had been imprisoned, and she imagined what it must have been like for Draco to have returned home that summer, facing Voldemort's uninhibited wrath. He had been tasked with the one thing that could absolve his family of Voldemort's ire, yet his mother had decided to turn to the Order for aid instead of letting her son go through with it. But he had been scared,  _terrifie_ d, and he had tried — and reneged — on his plan on more than one occasion before they'd fled. She thought of the way her fear and desperation had felt unnaturally high over the summer, while she had been ignorant of her stoic husband's feelings all the while, equating his increased desperation and fear with her own emotions.

"Draco," she whispered, reaching out to touch cup his cheek. This time, surprisingly, he did not pull away. Instead, she only felt his jaw stiffen under her touch.

He did not move, did not speak.

"Draco," she tried again. "Whatever Vol-" He clamped his hand over her mouth suddenly, and she fixed her wide-eyed gaze on his, frightened by his sudden action.

"Do not say his name," he said, clamping his hand down harder at her answering scowl. "I can't be certain, but there was talk of a Taboo—"

She managed to tear his hand away from her mouth in order to gasp. "A  _Taboo_?"

He nodded sharply.

Hermione's mouth fell closed, and she felt her lip tremble as she thought of Harry and his defiant, unabashed way of saying Voldemort's name aloud.

"I've already informed them. Granger," Malfoy said. "Your friends are safe."

She nodded mutely, still feeling terror curl in her heart at the prospect of what could happen should anyone slip up.

Eventually, she stood, feeling an uncharacteristic weariness settling deep in her bones. Everything that had been revealed throughout the conversation was simultaneously exactly what she needed to know, and entirely too much to comprehend all at once. When she turned to say good night, she found him gone, the sound of the front door clicking shut behind him the only evidence of his swift exit.

**X**

Over the next few days they fell into a routine, sparring in the mornings and in the evenings she researched while he read or disappeared for a few hours, off doing something she could only guess at. The undercurrent of tension between them had abated somewhat, their habitual arguments having turned into long silences instead.

This particular evening was no different, and she was sitting at the large desk, perusing through the series of tomes she'd brought with them for the umpteenth time when Malfoy came through the door. She'd barely registered his presence until she felt his shadow looming over her, and she looked up, surprised at his closeness.

"What is it?" she asked, perplexed.

He held up a book between his fingers. "You dropped this," he said.

"Oh," she looked around at the pile of open books strewn around her. "Do you mind just putting it in the bookshelf?"

He grunted, and she was surprised by his near-instant acquiescence. He crossed around her and shoved it into the bookshelf quickly, causing a couple of other books to tumble to the floor beside it.

"Honestly—" she started to chastise him, turning to pick up the books he'd made scatter so carelessly when she froze as he picked up one of the fallen books. Its cover shimmered for a moment, changing from a relatively demure title on Herbology to a large black volume with gleaming silver letters.  _Secrets of the Darkest Art,_  it read.

Malfoy's eyebrows were raised as he straightened with the book in his hands, giving her a curious look. "What are you researching, Granger?"

She stood, plucking the book from his fingers. She spotted a sheet of paper sticking out from the middle of the book, and she let it fall open to the page it designated.

 _Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy — I believe you may find this of use,_  it read in Dumbledore's familiar script.

Hermione's eyes widened as Malfoy picked up the sheet of paper, revealing the words on the page beneath it.  _Horcruxes_ , it read,  _are the darkest of all arts, reserved only to the foulest of beings who reserve no affection for what tethers us to humanity_.

"Horcruxes," Malfoy breathed, and Hermione looked up at the tinge of familiarity she heard in his voice.

"You've heard of them?" she asked, eyes sharpening. "What do you know?"

"Why are you researching them?" Malfoy asked, his voice sharp.

She swallowed, feeling an instinctive lie rising in her throat only to shove it back down, feeling ridiculous. There was no longer anything that needed to be hidden between them, after all. "Harry told us that V—that  _he_ has been making them. We need to find and destroy them all if we want to kill him."

Malfoy nodded, his features hard.

"What do you know?" she asked.

He did not meet her eyes, but she saw a deep sadness that lingered in his faraway look, and she yearned to know what was going through his thoughts. She felt his fear spike for a moment before he shoved it down deep as he spoke. "I overheard my father mention the word to him once, and I knew that it had to do with murder—" he cut off. "I wasn't supposed to overhear, and it appeared that my father was not supposed to mention the word in his presence, either." His voice was hard, and Hermione wondered what memories he lingered on as he spoke.

"It's how he survived," she whispered. "He would murder people, and each murder allowed him to fragment his soul and store it within an object."

"And so you intend to destroy them," he asked.

She nodded. "It's the only way to truly kill him — of this I am certain."

He nodded, then summoned a chair that screeched to a halt beside the desk chair. He sat down wordlessly and plucked the book from her hands, enlarging it before summoning a quill and parchment as he began to jot down notes on the short passage. She watched him curiously for a moment before joining him, and they soon lapsed into silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did include some canon easter eggs here, but do keep in mind that this fic is canon divergent and won't be following all of the events of Deathly Hallows. This will be much clearer in the next chapter though, I think.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I apologize again for the delay. Real life has certainly gotten in the way of late - thank you all for bearing with me. I also wanted to announce that I now have a discord! For those who want to chat with me, you can join [here](https://discord.gg/GH6N7Sn). Secondly, I wanted to thank those who voted for me in the 2019 Enchanted Awards - [A Contract Most Inconvenient got runner up for Best WIP](https://blankfishxx.tumblr.com/post/184553309191/im-a-runner-up-in-the-enchanted-awards-2019-for). Thank you so very much to all who voted!
> 
> Finally, some warnings for this chapter: This is a dark, war-era fic, and this chapter gets deeper into the violent aspects of war. There is also a brief (implied) mention of rape.
> 
> As always, thank you to my wonderful beta, RESimon.

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

It was quiet save for the occasional turning of pages, and Hermione found her mind starting to drift as she paused to take the last sip of tea in her mug. They had been researching for hours, and evening had descended swiftly. She had lit several lamps around the room, and she watched the tall candle that was lit on the desk between them steadily drip wax down its stem, gathering in a molten puddle at its base. Eventually, he sighed before she stood and stretched, padding over to the kitchen. She quickly prepared two mugs of tea, and was rewarded with a raised eyebrow when she set Draco's down in front of him.

"What?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Are you too good for tea now?"

He said nothing and instead cooled his mug with a quick flick of his wand before lifting it to his lips.

"You're welcome," she grumbled, pulling out her seat with more force than was strictly necessary.

She thought she spied a small smirk grace his features, but he melted back into his usual stoic self before she could figure it out.

"You're this upset over tea?" he drawled.

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "You can feel that?"

"Clearly," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

She crossed her arms. "It wasn't a stupid question, Draco. You're only supposed to be able to feel your partner's most intense emotions—"

"And you've been  _intensely_  upset for quite some time now," he said, stretching. "What else is ailing your fragile little heart?"

His tone was so deeply mocking that she felt a sudden surge of anger rise within her, and she levelled a glare at him. "You think that I have nothing to be irritated about?"

"You've made your bed, Granger," he said simply, turning back to the book in front of him.

She slammed his book shut, seething at him. "I've made my bed?!" she snapped, heaving. Until he'd pointed it out, she hadn't realized how deeply her anger had been festering within her. "Yes, I've made my bed, and you are in it. Do you know how that makes me feel?! I've lost everything," Hermione snapped, her heart shuttering at the thought of her losses in recent months. "I've basically abandoned Harry when he needed me the most, and I don't know if he'll ever forgive me for this. I broke Ron's heart, and then left. And my parents…" she swallowed the sob that threatened to burst forth, taking a steady breath before continuing.

"I agreed to marry you because I thought that you were nothing but a harmless bully who had been forced to comply with an ideal that was chosen for you that no one should have to submit to. And then only days after I do it, I find out that not only was Harry right about trying to murder people, I also find out that the Order, which I had come to trust with my life because I trusted that they would be the only way to save me and my kind from persecution was manipulating me and played me right into their scheming hands as they use me as nothing but a chess piece in this war. So yes, forgive me if I am a too little  _upset_  for your liking." By the time she was finished speaking, she was heaving with the efforts of her outburst.

He said nothing, and instead of quirking an eyebrow yet again before turning and calmly opening the book she had slammed shut in front of him. She watched his nonchalance incredulously for a few long moments before she turned back to her own book. Still, it took her only a few minutes of re-reading the same sentence before she realized that she was too flustered to continue.

"I'm not sorry," she said carefully. "But I understand why you did what you did, just as I hope that you understand that I am valid in feeling the way that I do. But… if we are ever to get through this without getting ourselves killed, then we need to work on this," she said, gesturing between the two of them. "We need to learn how to control it or it will ruin us both."

He did not turn until she finished speaking, and when he did there was a glint in his grey eyes as he met hers. It was then that she felt the tickle of him probing at her mind, gently but with purpose. Immediately, she snapped up a wall in her mind, blocking him from her thoughts. Still, she could feel her emotions seeping through invisible crevices in the wall, coaxed forward — although unbidden — by the force of the bond. They swirled like smoke, curling toward him as if beckoned by his mere presence. She tried to pull them back, but they slipped away as she clawed at them. The most burning ones seeped forward quickly — a ball of anger and frustration — while the others lingered behind, hovering but not quite reaching out for him. He probed deeper still, even as she painstakingly pieced together a stronger wall, finally feeling it begin to take shape around her swirling emotions, blocking them in.

She narrowed her eyes, then pressed forward into his mind, feeling his walls come into place similarly to hers, even as his own emotions hovered near the surface, laid almost bare to her. She felt his annoyance swell above all else as he tried to force her out, and she could not help the small smirk that she knew played on her lips as she probed further with ease. Currently, only his irritation and anger flared hard, but she knew his other emotions lay just beneath. She pressed forward, reaching deeper still—

And paused. They were married, yes — but she still felt as though she barely knew the man in front of her. Yet, here she was probing at his deepest emotions, dragging them out even as he tried his damndest to suppress them. She was his wife only in the strictest sense of the word, and these were things she was never meant to be privy to. At the same moment that she pulled back, he pulled back as well, glaring hard at her as she watched him back, neither saying a word.

"You can— be with someone, eventually," she said as she eventually broke the silence. "It will take some focus, but the bond doesn't stop you from loving"— the word felt thick as she said it, recalling the messy end of her relationship with Ron— "someone else, although the, uh, physical aspect will take some focus—"

"I know, Granger," he cut her off, his expression stoic.

He turned away from her then, but she still watched the hard set of his jaw and his clenched fists as he went back to his book, wondering about their future. After the war — if they were to survive it — they would eventually part. And what then? Things were over between her and Ron, and she no longer had lingering feelings for him. But if she were to pursue another relationship in the future, would she be damned to the same messy fate of whatever she and Ron had been? It's felt as though a part of her had been severed when she had been bonded, leaving only a gap of emptiness in its wake—

" _Complete_  destruction," she breathed.

"What?" Malfoy asked.

"We need to sever a Horcrux's bond to its object completely in order to destroy it," she said, scrambling to write down the information that just dawned on her. "The diary — it wasn't destroyed by the basilisk fang just because it was stabbed. It was destroyed because of the venom," she said, scribbling across her parchment.

"So complete destruction entails basilisk venom, then," he mused. "And the only known place where we could acquire said venom would be in the Chamber of Secrets, no?"

"Maybe…" she said, thinking of the school that was now being run by Death Eaters. It would be next to impossible for them to even get into the school undetected. They would need to ask McGonagall for aid, which could possibly in turn leave the information vulnerable to Voldemort's plundering should he ever decide to interrogate the teachers, which was a high possibility. Snape knew very much about the Order, enough that she would be a prime suspect were anything to occur involving them. And if she were to consent to obliviation, the risk still existed that something would occur, potentially leaving the students unprotected.

"Fiendfyre," Malfoy said. "That could work, couldn't it?"

She bit her lip to stop it from trembling as she recalled the fiery snake that had consumed her home in seconds, leaving nothing in its wake. All of her family belongings that she had so carefully stowed away and warded with every spell she knew was just  _gone—_  as if she had done nothing at all.

"Yes," she whispered finally. "That would probably work."

She felt him watching her, and she ignored him, opting instead carefully pen a letter to Harry for delivery whenever someone came to check on them next.

**X**

Several more days of radio silence from the Order passed before the coin burned once more. One moment, they were poring over the texts and their notes, occasionally swapping notes and addressing further points of interest. The next, it burned hotly where they kept it on the desk between them, the scent of burning wood settling in the air between them. This time, the message was simply a set of coordinates. Malfoy peeked at them before tapping his wand at the location on the map, studying it carefully. She was about to send a confirmation of receipt when another message followed the first.  _Proceed with caution_. A tendril of fear curled in her heart as she read the message, and she felt Malfoy pause himself and lean to read it over her shoulder.

When she looked up at him, his face was hard. "Get your cloak," he said, crossing the room to gather his own. She went into the bedroom and pulled it out of her trunk, then hesitated before pulling out a second bundle. She unraveled it as she made her way back to the main room where Malfoy waited, eyebrows raised as he saw what it held inside. She handed one of the knives to him wordlessly, watching the way the intricate details on the sheath glinted in the light.

"I got them in Knockturn before school started. With everything…I wanted to be prepared," she explained.

He nodded. "I've been there before," he said, holding out an expectant hand. She met his hard eyes for a moment as she hesitated, wondering if she would see a flicker of the fear she felt reflected in them. But there was nothing, and the walls he'd built in his mind were firmly in place, not an ounce of his emotions seeping through.

Finally, she reached out and took his hand, and they were gone.

They reappeared in shadows, the darkness around her so dense that she could feel only the tickle of leaves around her and feel the densely packed earth they stood on making soft squelching noises as her feet slipped. Malfoy's form was hard and solid in front of her, and she leaned into him, clutching the back of his cloak as she drew some comfort from the warmth he radiated. He said nothing, only leaning down to nod ahead of them into the darkness of the densely packed trees, urging her forward.

She followed on his heels, slipping twice before she muttered a quick charm to stabilize herself. Still, it did nothing to calm her racing heartbeat as they moved forward, steadily approaching a dim light that shone between the trees. When they got close enough to the light for her to see properly, she realized that there was a modestly-sized cabin that dominated a small clearing. This time, no revealing spell was needed — she would see the shadows of bodies moving past the drawn curtains in the lit windows. Instantly, her hands felt clammy and her throat went dry.

"Wait," she said, grabbing Malfoy's arm and stopping him.

He looked back at her, flinching when she raised her fingers to graze lightly through his hair. "Maybe we should, you know—glamour ourselves," she said, even as the thought of how she'd kept her telltale curls in tight buns and braids since their run-in with Yaxley.

It was so dark that she could not see his eyes, but she knew that his eyes were searching her all the same. "No," he answered, his voice was gruff. "I have a plan."

"To expose yourself?"

"I will be the distraction. You need to set up wards and disillusion yourself to check the premises."

Her hand gripped his sleeve for a moment longer before she released him, her trepidation mounting with each step he took away from her. He stepped into the clearing and turned to her, giving her a sharp nod before he went up to the door and rapped hard. It opened a few moments later, and she stood in the shadows, listening to the exclaims of surprise of the men within at Draco's appearance. There were several voices — at least five, she thought, but couldn't distinguish properly. She hoped it was less. It was probably more.

At this thought, she started, recalling her task. She quickly disillusioned herself, then set to putting up anti-apparition wards around the small area. When she finished, she circled back around to see that the door was still wide open, and Malfoy was leaning casually in the doorframe, likely appearing nonchalant to the men within. She approached carefully, wincing at the small squeak her trainer made on one of the wooden steps.

"—and they've now started rounding up the mudbloods, then, I see?" Malfoy drawled, his tone as casual as ever.

Even now, although she knew it was a ruse, his use of the word still made her flinch, and an unwitting sense of cold dread settled over her.

"There'll be a registry soon," one of the men spoke from beyond Malfoy. The glee in his voice sickened her. "And if they won't register…well, we've found other ways," he said, his voice dark.

"Filthy little creatures, aren't they? And the blood traitors are no different," Another man added, and the others joined his ensuing laughter. These words finally made her unfreeze, and she moved close enough to Malfoy until she could brush his arm, signaling her presence. Malfoy's laugh boomed loudest of all, forcing her to separate her memories of that specific laugh during their years at Hogwarts from the man in front of her. He did not flinch at her touch, but instead causally uncrossed his legs and straightened, and she spied his face melting into his signature haughty look as he stepped further into the room while she brushed past.

It was a small, well-lit living room, and there were five men sitting around, bearing various glasses of liquor that ranged from amber to dark brown. Only one appeared completely inebriated, and he was slouched on a sofa, his slurred laughter echoing louder than that of those around him.

She did not linger, and instead tiptoed over to the entry to the kitchen, peeking inside to find no one within. She spared one last glance at the men gathered in the living room before she mumbled an extra charm on her feet and tiptoed uptake narrow steps, wand at the ready. Upstairs, there were four closed doors, only one of which was ajar that she could see lead to a loo.

She crept up to the first door, listening for the sounds of movement within. Booming laughter still echoed from downstairs, sending chills up her spine and she tried to focus. It was near silent as far as she could tell, yet her clammy hands nearly slipped off of the doorknob as she grasped it. She stepped through quickly, wand at the ready and a stunning spell on her lips when she realized no one was within. It was a sparsely furnished bedroom, and a draft breezed through the slightly opened window across the room. Still, her skin tingled, and her wand did not waver from its taut position as she whipped her eyes around, scanning for movement.

" _Homenum revelio_ ," she whispered. When the air shifted in the middle of the room to reveal its occupants, she stumbled backward and clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream as well as her sudden need to retch.

In the centre of the room, two bloodied figures were slumped in chairs, arms bound behind them and their legs bound just as tightly by the ankles. It was a woman and a man, and their clothing was ripped, blood seeping through several cuts and wounds that littered the exposed parts of their skin. Neither was moving.

" _Reenervate_ ," she whispered at the figures after she disillusioned herself. Only the one on the right side jerked awake, blinking open the eye that wasn't swollen shut to look up at her. The woman opened her mouth to speak, and choked instead, spraying bloodied spittle as she struggled for air.

Hermione quickly conjured a glass on water and tipped it to the woman's lips, her hand shaking as she heard the woman's ragged breaths, sensing that she would soon be reduced to the state of the man's limp corpse that was next to them. After a few meagre sips, the woman turned to Hermione, wheezing something to her.

"My…my…" the woman's voice was a cracked whisper, and Hermione leaned closer, uncaring of the slippery blood that coated her hand as she cupped the woman's cheek.

"You're going to be okay," Hermione said. "We're going to get you to safety—"

But they both knew that she was beyond saving. Even as she spoke, her words rang with the finality of one's final breaths.

"Seamus," the woman said again, her voice clearer. "My…son."

And Hermione gasped. She whipped her wide eyes between the two figures, now noticing the matching wedding rings they both wore. The words of the men downstairs now haunted her impossibly deeper — muggleborns. Blood traitors. A registry. Finding other ways to handle them, should they choose not to comply.

Her foot caught against an object as she stumbled backward, and she heard a loud bang followed by a shattering noise behind her at the same that she heard a long bang from downstairs. She turned horrified eyes to the vase she had knocked over, still hearing the noises of the struggle downstairs. She was out of time.

She flicked her wand at the woman's — Seamus' mother, she now knew — bindings, caching her as she slumped forward. "I'm going to get you out of here," she said desperately, her voice choking over the words. "I'm going to get you back to your son."

She barely heard the sound of the door to one of the other rooms slamming open before the door to the room she was in opened, and she shot out a spell as a burly man burst in, easily deflecting her spell.

"You little bitch," he spat, charging at her before she shot out another spell that made him drop instantly, and made quick work of obliviating him. Her wand was not practiced this time, and she was forceful in dragging out his memories, some of them even spilling out onto the floor in silvery puddles that quickly dissipated as she shoved a portkey into the man's hand. This man would be nothing but a vegetable, and in that moment she had no regrets.

She turned back to Seamus' mother, breathing a sigh of relief as she felt the faint beat of a pulse under the woman's skin, even as she was slumped forward again, looking eerily like the corpse of her husband beside her. Hermione had been about to tip a portkey into the woman's hand when she heard another set of footsteps and another man burst into the room, his dark eyes dancing with rage.

"Cruci—"

"Impedimenta!" she shouted, watching him deflect her spell as easily as she dodged his. He rushed forward and she whipped to the side, tossing out another spell that barely grazed his hair.

The man snarled and charged forward again, deflecting her stunner. Then he paused, and with a wicked smile, aimed his wand toward Seamus' mother. Before Hermione could register her actions, she threw herself at him, causing the flash of green light that erupted from the tip of his wand to hit the already dead body of Seamus' father instead. She grunted as they fell to the ground, and her hand that held her wand got trapped between their bodies. She butted her head into his jaw, causing him to rear back in pain for a moment before he pressed forward again, crushing her beneath his body.

Then, as if in slow motion, he lifted his wand and cast a hex at Seamus' mother that slashed across her stomach, causing her to gasp out a final breath before she slid to the ground in a pool of crimson blood, her eyes open and lifeless.

Hermione screamed, and his free hand fastened around her neck, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her hands were small, so small compared to his and he slammed down a heavy elbow on her forearm with a sickening crunching noise that caused her to drop her wand as she cried out in pain. Black spots started to appear in her vision, and she stopped clawing at his fingers that were latched around her throat, causing a cruel smile to slowly grace his features as he smirked down at her.

His smile disappeared, however, when she whipped her hand back up and swiped her knife across his throat. Instantly, blood spurted out of the wound and spilled over them both. He dropped her instantly, clawing at his throat. Then his body jerked and he fell forward, giving her only a moment to scramble backward before he toppled to the floor, unmoving. Beyond him, Malfoy stood in the doorway, breathing heavily even as his wand stayed pointed at the man as if he was waiting for him to get up. His eyes flicked to her before he crossed the room in two quick strides, dropping to his knees in front of her.

"Where are you hurt?" he demanded, his hands ghosting over her body. "Is it his?" he asked, looking down at where his hands had come away bloodied.

She didn't answer although she knew she needed to. She willed her limbs to move, but she felt as though she was underwater, her body slow to respond while her mind raced, replaying the sequence of events of the night on a sickening loop.

"Granger," Malfoy said, and she flinched when he touched her broken arm. "I'm going to heal this, alright?"

She managed only to blink in acknowledgment and felt a burn of pain as her bone snapped itself back together.

"Granger," Malfoy prodded again, and still she could not find the words to answer. When she did not reply, he gathered her into his arms gently — more gently than she'd previously thought him capable of — and disapparated them.

**X**

They landed back in the kitchen of their cabin. He set her down on her feet, then quickly steadied her as she buckled.

"Granger," he spoke into her ear as she sagged back into his chest. "You're shaking."

She hadn't realized it, but she was. Even as she noticed the trembling, however, she couldn't make it stop.

"What happened?" His voice was almost soft — concerned.

She opened her mouth, then slammed it shut as the sound of her teeth clacking together took over. She couldn't move. Couldn't think. All she could see was blood. Blood and dead bodies, a dying woman lingering just out of her reach…

"Granger!" Malfoy snapped.

She looked up at him, still shaking, her teeth grinding down hard as she tried to force her jaw to stop trembling. She tried to focus on his eyes, but grey shifted to brown, and she saw Seamus' mother's lifeless eyes looking back at her from where she lay on the ground—

She was jerked forward then, and she dimly registered Malfoy pulling her toward the loo, dragging her inside and shoving her into the shower. The sudden spray of frigid water caused her to shiver more, and this time she let her teeth chatter openly, clutching her arms tightly around her body. Malfoy stepped in in front of her, the water soaking through the long-sleeved shirt and trousers he wore, the dark fabric clinging heavily to his figure.

"You're in shock," he said, gently tugging her chin until she met his eyes.

She gave a shot nod — she supposed she was. She felt powerless to do anything all the same.

"I'm going to clean the blood off of you, alright?" Again, he used that gentle tone that sounded so unlike him that she had to flick her eyes down to his lips to make the connection between the man in front of her and the words she heard him speaking.

She managed another small nod, aware that she was still holding herself tightly and shivering. His hands were as gentle as his words as he raised a rag and began wiping her face.

"I'm going to take off your clothes," he said softly and she gave another small nod, no longer caring about her modesty.

He vanished her clothes a moment later, and she was glad to be rid of them, glad that some of the evidence of what had transpired was gone forever, although she was certain that her memories of it would brand her forever. He cleaned her skin slowly and diligently, taking careful care to wash away every speck of blood from her skin and hair. It was so unlike him — so deeply unlike everything she had ever known about him that her eyes remained fixed on him, trying to reconcile the gentle movements he made as he cleaned her thoroughly with the hard, cold man she was used to. He remained clothed all the while, and she watched him, looking for signs that he was as affected by the night as she was. He had blood in his hair, platinum stained with red, and a spot on his neck that didn't seem to wash away like the rest of it until she realized it was a small gash that he had yet to heal. He paused only when she reached out to touch it.

At her touch, he looked up at her and caught the question in her eyes. "I'll heal it later," he said dismissively, pausing to wring out the rag until pink water flowed down the drain before he returned to wiping her feet.

Draco Malfoy was an enigma. She continued to study him, watching for a break in his facade as dried her and summoned her bathrobe, wrapping it tightly around her. Wordlessly, he carried her to the bedroom and put her under the sheets before turning to leave.

"Thank you," she croaked, watching him pause in the doorway.

"Get some sleep," he answered simply before pulling the door shut behind him.

**X**

She did not emerge from the room for two days. A few times a day — she could not say when, because she kept the curtains tightly drawn — Malfoy would come in and leave her a plate of food before exiting quickly without a word. She slept fitfully for as long as she could before she would wake up, the images slamming back into her mind as suddenly and as vividly as though she had experienced them only moments earlier. Sometimes she would scream. Other times, she would choke back sobs, shoving a fist into her mouth as she tried to stifle the sounds. Still, Malfoy heard her —and probably felt it — every time without fail, and would enter the room with a sleeping potion at the ready. She knew the supplies she'd seen their cabinets stocked with were limited, yet he did not complain — or say anything, really — and would instead tip the potion to her lips and slip back out, closing the door behind him and sealing her in the darkness she so craved once more.

On the morning of the third day, she awoke in a cold sweat, sucking in heavy breaths as she tried to steady her racing heartbeat. Her mind was overrun with images of people suffering, screaming — dying. But this time, instead of crying out as she so desired to, she channeled her fear into determination. She knew now that this was bigger than her — she now knew firsthand what the costs of war were. She felt herself swing her legs over the bed, and took two steady steps as she stood up. Eventually, she padded carefully over to the door and pulled it open, scanning the room before her eyes landed on where Malfoy was sitting at the long desk, looking up at her with a question in his eyes.

"I'm alright," she said, her throat scratching as she spoke her first words in days. "Thank you," she added.

He nodded and scanned her for a moment before turning back to the tome in front of him.

"I killed him," she whispered brokenly. "I killed him, and—"

"Granger," he cut her off. "You don't need to—"

"—and I don't regret it," she finished. "He…he wasn't human."

Malfoy paused, his gaze intense as he met hers, and she looked back, knowing he could see the truth of her admission, and feel it as she dropped the walls she had built in her mind. "I burned them," he said eventually. "I burned everything."

"Good," she answered. "She—" it was then that Hermione's voice broke, and she bit her lip before looking down. "She was Seamus'— Seamus Finnegan's— mother. His father was already…when we got there." Her lip trembled as the sickening images flitted through her mind once more. She closed her eyes and let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and when she opened them again Malfoy was in front of her, his hands out as if ready to steady her.

She waved him away, shaking her head. "It's alright," she said, and he nodded, letting his arms drop to his sides as he turned to go back to the desk. She caught his hand before he could take a step.

"Draco," she called. "How did you…why did you know where to go?"

His shoulders stiffened instantly.

"I don't— I won't pry, if you don't want to tell me," she said. Still, she continued to grip his sleeve, knowing that he would soon pull away. Still, a long moment passed and he did not pull away, nor did she release his sleeve.

"The Dark Lord…he liked to hold revels," he said. His voice was low, yet she heard the tinge of fear in it that was otherwise hidden by his fortified occlumency walls.

"Revels?" She asked when he offered no more.

"Some referred to them as…learning exercises," he said. She yearned to circle him and search his eyes but knew that he might pull away if she moved even a fraction. "They taught others how to curse people in ways that would make the pain last. They held demonstrations of how to use the Killing Curse."

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, imagining the horrors of what he must have witnessed. "Did they use…live targets?"

His nod was nearly imperceptible, but unmistakable all the same. "Muggles, mostly. But sometimes…" he trailed off, letting the implications of what was left unsaid hang in the air between them.

"They killed…all of them?" Her voice was a pained whisper as she thought of the horrors he'd had to endure.

"No," his voice was sharp. "Some…some they kept for  _entertainment_."

Hermione froze at his words, letting out a horrified gasp. She pictured her parents in the same position Seamus' had been in the previous night, and wondered if they would have simply killed her, or…

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Malfoy from behind, feeling her sympathy beating as strongly as her heartbeat and knowing that he could feel it, too. She let her feelings flow, clutching him so tightly that she could feel his muscles contracting under her fingers. He tensed but did not move, and he stood there for a long while, letting her silent tears wet the back of his shirt.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, everyone. I've had quite a bit of unexpected things going on in my personal life recently, and have unfortunately needed to dial back on my writing schedule quite a bit. I apologize for this, as I so deeply appreciate all the love I receive from you all and hate to leave you hanging for long periods of time. It is still unclear how much I'll be dialing back, but by the time 14 is out (expect it in the next few days), I will have a better idea. So much love for you all and your patience - thank you.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

A spell crashed into the wall behind Hermione, feeling white-hot as it grazed just past her temple. She did not hesitate, wandlessly erecting a quick shield before throwing back a spell of her own. It was a flash of angry red against platinum hair, as it, too, grazed past its target, just missing him as he dodged it expertly. Sweat dripped down Hermione's forehead and into her eyes, its salty sting causing her to blink rapidly. Still, she did not waver and charged forward, whipping out her foot at the last moment so that Malfoy stepped into its path as he went to dodge her. The result was him toppling to the ground, and her landing astride him, wand at his throat. It was only the second time of more than a dozen that she'd managed it this morning, but it was still a victory for her nonetheless. He was looking at her with what almost seemed like respect, and she allowed herself to revel in it.

Her free hand was pressed firmly against his hard chest, and she could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat under her hand as he looked back up at her. She watched as his eyes slid down her body until they rested on the hand that was on his chest, where her wedding ring glittered in the low light that filtered through the window. She hadn't bothered to keep it glamoured when they weren't on missions, and it now shone at her like a beacon. Even she could admit that the ring was stunning, and there had been many a moment that she'd stopped to admire its glittering beauty that seemed to both mock and entrance her at once. She looked back up and met his eyes again, wondering what had passed through his mind as he'd stared at it. But as quickly as she thought she'd caught an openness in his expression, his eyes hardened into his usual indifferent mask.

There was a sharp rap on the door then and they both looked up, scrambling to their feet as they both came to the realization that it was an Order member at the same time. She reached the door first and pulled in open in time to see Kingsley's back as he quickly strode toward where the apparition wards ended at the tree line.

"Kingsley!" she called, running down the steps.

Kingsley sighed, turning back to look at her. The grey morning light illuminated his haggard features in a way that felt almost melancholic. Hermione knew that there had been a time where she would have gone to him, her voice laced with concern as she asked if he was alright. But those times were long past, and the distance between them felt as wide as a chasm.

"You look well," he said finally.

"How is everyone?" she asked.

Kingsley nodded toward the door, where she saw a large envelope stuck to it. "Ron wrote you, and he said to send his best."

"And...Harry?"

Kingsley hesitated. "He is as well as can be expected."

Hermione let out a shaky breath, hearing the things he had left unsaid. She could still practically feel the weight of her betrayal reflected in Harry's eyes, and her heart clenched at the reminder.

"He knows that your mission is integral, Hermione," he said. "Worry not for him."

"Will you give him this for me?" she said, handing him the notes she'd made on Horcruxes that had been charmed for Harry and Ron's eyes only. "It's important."

Kingsley nodded. "He informed us that he and Ronald must continue the mission they've been entrusted with by Dumbledore, so they have been in and out of the safe houses for some time now."

She nodded solemnly, swallowing back the painful throb in her chest. "And the rest of the Order?"

"We've all relocated to the safe houses."

"I see," Hermione said, shuffling awkwardly as the man offered no further information and instead turned to walk away yet again.

"Is that all, then?" her voice was stiff as she watched the man pause, his shoulders tense.

"Yes," he answered. "There are other things I must attend to."

Hermione choked out a sound that lay somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Is that what I am now? One more insignificant thing somewhere on your list?"

Kingsley looked away, and she spotted a scar that ran down the side of his neck, the puckered line standing out sharply against his ebony skin. "The bodies of Saoirse and David Finnegan turned up at St. Mungo's a few nights ago, along with three Death Eaters that had been obliviated to the point of infancy," he said. "You have done well." His voice was almost robotic, perverse in the way that he congratulated her for what basically constituted murder. Her heart twisted at the thought, reminding her that she had committed the literal act of murder as well.

"Her veins were black," her voice was barely a whisper, but she knew that Kingsley had heard her. "When I saw her, I knew it was too late— that I couldn't save her. But still, I wanted to try."

Kingsley said nothing, but continued to watch her in stoic silence.

"They killed her anyway," she spat. "And later, in my dreams, all I could see was the peculiar way her blackened veins stood out so sharply against her pale skin. I didn't have to time to stop then, to even fully register it at the time, but after...afterwards, it was all I saw. So I looked it up. They'd cursed her — they cursed her with something so dark, so vile, that she had been slowly rotting until it reached her heart. Her husband was already dead when I got there. Probably long dead, because that is what they do — what they  _will_  do if they ever find me." Her voice shook with her pain and rage as she wished to banish the memories from her mind, but knowing that they would be there forever.

"There are sacrifices we all must make," Kingsley said, his words eerily reminiscent of the words she'd heard from Dumbledore months prior.

And just like back then, the words made the rage in that bubbled within her boil over, her words spilling out of her hotly before she could think of reigning them in. "Damn you," she spat. "Damn you, and  _damn_  the Order for what you've made me into. Dumbledore orchestrated this scheme, lured me in under false pretenses of securing a spy when this" — she clutched her chest as her heart stuttered at the thought of all that had transpired thus far — "this is what he really wanted. Two assassins, ready to do the Order's bidding," she spat.

"This is war," Kingsley answered simply.

"I know that this is war!" she shouted back. "It is war, so we have to win, or we will die. Yet there are many, many things that are worse than death. We have to— we have to kill, or be killed," her voice broke. "And that's what I've done — what you've forced me into because you know that I truly understand the stakes and wouldn't refuse no matter how desperately I wanted to. I know that binding myself to Malfoy was the best course of action to secure Narcissa's allegiance, just as well as I know that we had to do what we did to those Death Eaters. It could have been my parents in the place of Seamus'. It could have been me, me and  _my_  husband, and he would have been tortured to the brink of death all whilst slowly rotting from within because of my blood status.  _I know,_ Kingsley. I know it all, just like I know that the part of me that regrets slashing that Death Eater across the throat when I could have wounded him  _anywhere_  else is nowhere near as regretful as it would have been only months ago. I have lost myself to this war, and much of it boils down to what you and Moody and even" —she choked on the name— "McGonagall have forced me into. So that—  _that_  is why I am almost certain that I  _hate_  you."

Kingsley remained silent, as stoic as ever in the silence that followed her words that was pierced only by her heaving breaths. "Just as you said, you win or you die, Hermione," Kingsley said finally. "Remember that." He turned and took the last few steps to the tree line before disapparating, leaving Hermione alone.

She whirled and stormed back into the cabin, slamming the door behind her. Malfoy was seated at the small dining table, a mug of tea paused at his lips as he appraised her.

"Is crying all you're capable of?" he said, taking a long sip of his tea.

She raised a hand and touched her wet cheek, not having noticed the angry tears that had spilled there.

"The night we got married," she said, her voice still shaky, "—or even before then, did you know what Dumbledore had planned? Did you know that it would all lead to — this?" she said, gesturing sharply around them.

His lips thinned into a hard line. "You have always clung to foolish notions, but even I didn't peg you to be as blind of a fool as Potter."

Hermione stalked over to the table and slammed an open palm down on it, glaring at him. "Did you know?!"

He glared back at her, his grey eyes sharpening. "He visited the Manor once," he answered, offering no additional information.

" _When?_ "

"Last summer," his teeth were gritted as he responded, still glaring at her.

She stumbled backward, her mind reeling under the weight of his words. " _Last summer?_ Did your mother—"

Malfoy stood and was upon her in a flash. "He came to the Manor, offering aid of some kind. I overheard nothing more, but have always had an inkling that visit" —his voice was dark— "lead her to choose this. And that is  _all_ , Granger. You trust Potter, Dumbledore, the whole  _bloody_ Order too much. You need to stop fighting blindly for them and use that supposedly-bright mind of yours to  _think_ ," he added with a scoff.

"This is not just about them! It's also about all muggleborns, our rights, our  _lives_ —"

"You still could have said no, could have told them to piss off and continued on your little crusade—"

"You know that I couldn't have said no!"

"Yes, you could have!"

"If I hadn't, your mother would never have agreed to be a spy—"

"She was desperate Granger!" he snapped.

His words made her pause momentarily as she recalled that night, remembering how the woman had been ever the picture of elegant perfection, not a hair out of place. Hermione had caught only a hint of fear in the woman's eyes as she'd watched her carefully, but she did not doubt that the woman's careful display of vulnerability had been intended to sway her more so than it had been an unintentional drop in her facade. And even if Malfoy's words were true, Hermione recalled the knowing,  _calculating_  glint in Dumbledore's eyes. Deep inside, she knew that even if she had tried to refuse, Dumbledore would have continued to maneuver them like chess pieces until they'd ended up exactly where he wanted them to be. And...

Even beyond that, there was a deeper truth that Malfoy was probing at that bubbled near the surface of her thoughts, threatening to burst forth. He knew it, too — could probably feel her turmoil as it drew dangerously close to spilling from her lips — and she could see it reflected in the angry glimmer in his stormy grey eyes.

"You knew it! We all knew it!" Malfoy continued. "So why did you agree?"

And with that, the truth she had been trying to suppress and deny for so long burst forth, tumbling from her lips before she could attempt to force them shut. "I did it for you!" she shouted.

The silence left in the wake of her words was so deafening that it felt as though it had sucked out every sound in the room, save for her racing heartbeat which echoed loudly in her ears.

"I did it because—" she swallowed, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment before she opened them again, forcing herself to face him, "—I did it because even though I didn't like you, I thought you were worth saving."

"Why?" his voice was low and gruff when he finally spoke.

"All these years...everything with you has been about your father, about pleasing him. But I know...I know how twisted he is, and I thought that you deserved to be free of his shadow. It was why I spent most of the school year trying to convince Harry that you weren't trying to kill anyone, that you weren't a part of any of this as much as  _subject_ to it because you deserve at least that much. When Dumbledore asked this of me, I realized that I — that  _this_  — could be your second chance." The words that had sat deep in her heart that she'd quelled to a whisper drifted free, the truth now hanging in the air between them despite her long denial of it.

"I never asked for your pity, Granger."

His eyes were stormy, swimming with a dark intensity as he loomed over her, his taller, broader frame feeling like an eclipse. She knew that he wanted her to shrink away under his intimidating stature, but she instead found herself leaning closer into him. He was tense and frozen even when her head finally met his chest, and her arms snaked carefully, gently, around his waist. He did not move when she whispered her next words, either: "It was never pity. I just cared."

She'd pressed her head to his chest for but a few seconds more until he pulled away abruptly, stalking over to the front door. His hand clenched the doorknob tightly as he wrenched it open, and he twisted slightly to spit out one word:

"Don't."

**X**

It was late, and Hermione was sitting on the edge of her bed, the single letter she'd received from Ron lay on the bed beside her, unopened. She had brought in the letters that had remained tacked on the door long after Malfoy had gone through it, leaving the few he'd received from his mother on the coffee table. The small envelope shone like a beacon to her even in the soft moonlight that drifted in through the window, and she looked at it with mounting trepidation, wondering what it held. There was a small, firm lump that bulged in the envelope, and she wondered if it held a letter at all — perhaps it instead held a single token that encompassed his rejection, his permanent severing of her from his life. She wouldn't blame him if that was it.

She took a deep, shaky breath before she tugged it open, sighing in relief when she spotted a piece of parchment within.  _You will always be my best friend,_  it read in Ron's familiar messy script.  _It just wasn't our time. Be safe._

Hermione tipped the open envelope into her palm to find the small vial of the remnants of Harry's Felix Felicis they hadn't ended up using that night in the castle when everything —  _everything_ — had changed. And with that, Hermione clutched the contents to her chest and sobbed, clutching the letter close even as she climbed into bed.

For the first time in weeks, she did not dream.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, for updates on my writing progress, you can check my tumblr (blankfishxx) or my Facebook (Blank Fish). I also have a Discord sever that you can join [here](https://discord.gg/GH6N7Sn). Again, thank you all for the love and your patience. And yes, I couldn't help the Game of Thrones easter egg, hahaha — fitting, isn't it?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following note was also posted on chapter 37 of ACMI, but needed repetition here. Thank you all for your patience, it is so very deeply appreciated.
> 
> Hi everyone! My updates have gotten quite sporadic, I know. As you all have probably already noticed, the time between updates has steadily gotten longer and longer. I do sincerely apologize for this, as I usually do update once a week, if not multiple times a week. For the past month and a half or so, however, doing so has been difficult. I've had quite a lot going on in my personal life, and that has affected the pace of my writing quite a lot.
> 
> Nonetheless, I do want to reassure you guys that I have not and will not be abandoning my fics at all. Instead, for the next few months, I anticipate having a very sporadic update schedule. This means that if I find the time, I might update twice in a week as usual. It also means that I might end up going up to a month without an update, although I truly hope there won't be any delays that are that long. Overall, though, I'm asking you all for your continued patience and understanding— writing is very dear to me and has helped me immensely in times of stress, so I do not plan to let it go anytime soon. I expect to be back to normal in mid-August or so, but it could be sooner. I will be keeping you guys updated along the way though, and I am trying to stay as active as possible on social media to compensate because even if I won't always be able to find the time to sit down and write entire chapters, I will be available those ways. As usual, I'll leave those socials at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Also, on a happier note: My beta, RESimon, has posted her first fic! It's a Nevmione titled [Not But For You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006480/chapters/45135592), and you can find it in my favorites. Please go show her some love, she's worked so very hard on it. Also, please do follow her on [tumblr](https://resimonfics.tumblr.com/) and show her some love. As you all know, this fic would be in quite the state without her, so she deserves tons of kudos for all of her hard work.

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Hermione awoke sharply, flying from deep sleep to hyper-alertness in a moment. Her heart fluttered rapidly in her chest beneath the weight that held it down, and her panicked scream was stifled by the hand that was pressed firmly over her mouth.

"Do  _not_  hex me," Malfoy said. "We've been summoned." He waited until she gave him a short nod before he disappeared back out the door.

She cast a  _tempus_  charm, still blinking blearily as it showed the time to be nearly half past midnight. Several weeks of silence had passed since Kingsley's visit, and they had fallen back into a routine of working and training together, the rest of their time spent in relative silence. It was no longer tense, but the air was not amicable, either. There had been a shift between them — a subtle one, yes, but a shift nonetheless — since that fateful night in the cabin, and she now found it easier to breathe around him despite his cool demeanor. She slid out of bed and dressed quickly in her usual outfit of dark form-fitting trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, stepping out into the living room as she fastened her cloak.

"What did it say?" she asked Malfoy, who was already dressed.

He turned and tossed her knife to her wordlessly, and she felt her heart clench for a moment as she looked at its spotless beauty, no hint of what she had done left on its gleaming sheath despite the fact that it has been branded in her memory forever.

"Reconnaissance," he answered. "They asked that we be discreet."

She nodded, then crossed over and gently fingered his tousled platinum locks. "May I?"

He had stiffened at her touch but nodded all the same. She charmed his hair into a deep chestnut color, then glamoured his eye color to a deep blue. He was still strikingly handsome, and she flushed as she raised her wand again after it had been lowered and quickly cast a charm that caused his nose to grow longer, developing a slight hook.

He raised an eyebrow at her, but she said nothing, instead giving him a short nod as she charmed her own long braid auburn before taking his hand. She tried not to focus on how warm it was, nor on how his larger hand seemed to dwarf her small one while simultaneously fitting it perfectly.

But then his cold, gruff voice broke through her reverie, and she remembered the frigid, detached man to whom the hand that she held belonged. "I've never been there," he said, pointing to the shimmering circle he had marked on the map. "Do you know where to go?"

She let go of his hand, avoiding his eyes as he inadvertently addressed the presumption she'd made, assuming he had been there just as before. She approached the map, her brow furrowing as she analyzed the surrounding area.

"There's an inn that I visited with my parents once a couple of kilometers away," she said, pointing to a spot on the map. "Here. It'll be a long walk."

Draco looked at the path she pointed out and nodded before taking her hand. She envisioned the small, quaint inn and apparated them there. They landed in a shadowed area just outside the main doors to the quaint inn, a short ways from where the tree line began. They pressed back into the shadows as the doors opened, letting out a young couple. Hermione watched as the man lifted his wife's hand to his lips, kissing the rings on her finger as they glinted in the soft light of the lantern that illuminated them. She cupped his cheek and drew him into a long kiss before she whispered something into his ear that caused him to give her a sly grin before tugging her off into the underbrush.

"Let's go," Hermione whispered as they watched the couple disappear into the shadows.

They disillusioned themselves and ran across the gravelly road and into the forest. A few feet away, she heard the woman's soft moan that was followed by a short groan from her husband, and Hermione swallowed, speeding up while studiously avoiding looking up at her own husband.

The forest was soon silent around them, save for their soft breaths and footsteps. It was dark, and the silver of moonlight that shone through the trees did little more than give them a vague sense of where some overhanging branches were. As such, they stayed close, nearly pressed into one another, and the heat that radiated off of his body was her sole source of comfort.

"Malfoy," she whispered after a long while of silence. "We're getting close." She'd stopped moving altogether, and felt him slow to a stop beside her, his arm brushing hers lightly.

"Where?"

"I can't be certain, but the pull of the charm has lessened so much that I can barely feel it now. Only a few dozen feet ahead, I think." Her palms felt slick, and she rubbed them on her leggings as she bit her lip, looking up at where she could barely make out his outline in the dull moonlight. "We—"

His hand gripped her shoulder as he pressed her forward. "Just focus," his voice was so low that she barely heard him.

She nodded, knowing he couldn't see the movement but also knowing that he likely didn't care, either. Her breaths quickened as they moved closer and the trees began to thin, letting and more trickles of illumination shine through. Hermione stepped forward and nearly tripped, and was stopped only by Malfoy's strong grip as he caught her. It was still dark, too dark for them to see what it had been, but a sickening cold had begun to seep through her as she knew that it has been something distinctly out of the ordinary. As if coming to the same conclusion as her, Malfoy cast a low light from his wand, illuminating the ground before them.

And Hermione froze.

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, and she found herself sucking in short, sharp breaths as she tried to stop herself from becoming violently ill.

There were dead bodies— a dozen at least, perhaps more — scattered along the ground around them.

The one by her feet stared up with cold, lifeless eyes, her dark hair matted with blood. She wore distinctly muggle clothing, as did all the rest of the victims. While some were pale and lifeless, others were covered in blood, their wounds telling tales of their untimely suffering. Hermione stumbled backward, slamming into a tree while Malfoy quickly put out the light.

"Don't look," he said. "We need to move the bodies. Quickly."

She shuddered a deep breath. "Wait," she said, then cast a quick  _homenum revelio_  on their immediate surroundings. When the spell showed nothing, she felt her heartbeat begin to slow although the churning in her stomach did not cease.

"Do we have enough portkeys?" Malfoy asked.

Hermione bit her lip. They had dozens, yes, but this was war, and it had no end date that they knew of. How many missions were left? How many more times would they need to use the portkeys? How precious of a resource were they, truly?

"Why are they doing this?" she asked, watching Malfoy's outline shift, presumably turning toward her as she spoke.

"Because this is what they do, Granger." His voice was dismissive.

"I know that," she said back. "But…over a dozen muggles just—" she choked on the word "—slaughtered in cold blood, Draco, it doesn't make sense—"

"It would if you understood Death Eaters," he snapped. "This is  _sport_  to them."

The ill feeling in her stomach continued to churn, and she forced herself to swallow it back as she ran through the options of what this could have meant. Even as she spoke, she held the pouch of portkeys in her hand, hesitating as she tried to come to a decision.

"It's just—random, Draco. Why here? Why just leave them? It might be a trap, maybe we shouldn't touch them—" she stopped short, sneaking a glance at where the bodies lay once more as she forced herself not to heave at the sickening realization that had just dawned on her.

"What is it?" Malfoy asked, his voice sharp.

"Inferi," she breathed. "They could be making more Inferi, couldn't they?" She thought of Harry's description of his time spent with Dumbledore in the cave, of the twisted, unnatural creatures that had attacked them…

She didn't doubt that those had been muggles, too.

"If they were, they would have taken them," Malfoy said. "They wouldn't just—"

"Slaughter them without reason and leave them here?" She answered with a humorless laugh. Her discomfort continued to increase exponentially the more time they spent standing there, surrounded by the dead. "It's a possibility, and you know that they're capable of it. They could come back at any moment to… _collect_  them."

She looked up at him, and although his eyes weren't visible in the dark she somehow knew their eyes had met. "We have to burn them." Her lip trembled as she thought of all the muggles that lay before them, slaughtered for reasons she knew they would not — could not — understand.

"Granger," Malfoy broke the silence. "I'll do it."

"No," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I can do it." Surviving this war would require a strength she didn't know that she possessed, but she knew that this action would at least be merciful. Yes— it was better that they died a final, peaceful death here than be forced to join Voldemort's undead army.

She lifted her wand with a shaky hand, pointing it at where the bodies lay. "Incend—"

Before she could finish the incantation, close by —entirely too close by— several distinct pops of apparition sounded around them.

And then everything descended into chaos.

Sparks of color began littering the air around them as it was filled with a multitude of spells and curses from their attackers. Hermione stumbled backward, tripping over a body as she dodged a spell that hit the trees just behind her, exploding in a shower of splintered wood. She tried to see where Malfoy was, but the plethora of spells exploding around her kept her firmly in place as she casted shield and curses of her own. As a white-hot spell grazed her leg, she sprang up, throwing back a spell of her own, satisfied to hear an answering scream. Then she took off at a sprint, searching for Malfoy's dark head amongst the chaos that was sparks of magic shrouded in shadow.

There was a sudden burst of light then, and the air was immediately filled with a sickening stench that had her earlier queasiness rising back up as the ground was suddenly ablaze behind her, consuming the bodies that littered the ground. The light the fire threw off illuminated several figures littered around them, their faces slightly obscured by the licking flames as they rose higher and higher.

She took advantage of the light to lunge forward, taking down two more Death Eaters with quick, precise movements. She ran past them, throwing out more spells as she dove deeper into the chaos, trying to identify her only ally in a sea of foes. Even as she took down three more in quick succession, she heard several more cracks of apparition as others joined the fight. She whipped her head around frantically as she searched for Malfoy, knowing that their window to escape was quickly closing.

There.

She spotted Malfoy's tall, lithe form a dozen feet before her, the distinctive hooked nose scrunched in anger as he dueled with two Death Eaters, taking them out easily. She rushed toward him, feeling the spreading flames begin to lick at her heels. She cried out, saying nothing in particular because she knew that she could not expose them, but hoping he would distinguish the pitch of her voice regardless—

A hand clamped down on her arm suddenly, dragging her backward even as she was mere feet from where Malfoy had begun dueling three newcomers. "Who do we have here?" A cold, male spat as she tried to wrench herself away, scrambling backward and stumbling over one of the bodies that had yet to be touched by the flames.

The heat was stifling, and the smell of burning bodies burned her senses as she tried to escape the man's iron grip. She shot out a slashing hex that grazed his cheek, causing blood to start pouring from the wound. He snarled, lurching forward as she dodged his next spell. She managed to wrench sideways at the last moment, sending them tumbling away from the fire. The man managed to secure a meaty hand around her throat even as she clawed at him with her free hand, scratching deep gouges into his skin. She managed to free her wand hand from where it had been trapped between them, but as her mouth formed the words of a curse the man wrenched them sideways once more, sending them tumbling in a heap.

Beyond them, shouts continued to sound as spells flew off in every direction, bathing the dark sky in color above the orange-red of the licking flames. This time, the man had managed to twist her in such a way that her wand arm was trapped painfully beneath her while he pressed her face into the forest floor. Her mouth filled with dirt as she struggled to breathe, feeling the man shove her face deeper into it as he kept his firm grip on her head while a knee was firmly embedded on her lower back.

She continued to hold her wand fast with the hand that was trapped beneath her while she started to creep the hand that was only partially trapped towards the pocket of her cloak, her fingertips just barely able to grasp at it in order for her to begin lifting it upward. Each breath she took only filled her mouth with more dirt, and she knew her time was running out. She hadn't much time, and she tugged at the pocket harder until she gripped the pouch of portkeys, grasping it tightly in her fingers. She fingered it open, sliding one of the small, hard objects to the top of the pouch. She needed only to be precise enough to press it against his body without touching it herself. His large frame covered her so completely that her pinky grazed his side as she twisted the portkey into position. She needed only to tip it in a precise enough manner that it touched his side—

There was a sudden blast of light, and two things happened simultaneously. The man rolled off of her, revealing Malfoy behind them, firmly poised with his wand pointed at him. The sudden movement, however, had propelled her in such a way that her hand automatically tightened on the pouch just below the single portkey she had nudged to the top that she had readied to drop on her attacker. The effect was that a single gold coin flew out of the pouch, sailing through the air between them as it twinkled in the light of the flames surrounding them. Hermione's eyes widened as the scene unfolded seemingly in slow motion, attempting to wrench herself away from where the man still held her braid in a firm grip. Malfoy came to the same realization as she did, and he moved forward, a hand swiping through the air a hair too short above where it fell.

It landed directly on the man's chest.

The last thing Hermione saw before the portkey sucked them away was the horror twisting her husband's glamoured features as she felt herself twisting away with a sharp, inescapable tug at her navel. And she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 will be out sooner rather than later — can't leave you all hanging for that long!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, so much love goes out to my beta, RESimon. I've also gone back and cleaned up any errors from earlier chapters — thank you all for bearing with me. I had a hand operation during the time that I was releasing many of the earlier chapters and relied heavily on voice typing, which often resulted in odd phrasing that slipped past me. Thank you all for bearing with me and continuing to follow the fic— I know how annoying typos can be! An especially huge thank you from both myself and RESimon goes out to [Darkcat18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkcat18) for helping point out said errors. You saved us both quite a bit of time! <3

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Hermione crashed onto the hard floor, the impact taking the wind out of her lungs. She coughed, sitting up as she looked at her surroundings. They had landed in a dimly lit stairwell somewhere in St. Mungo's, where a loud alarm blared overhead from an unseen source. The man she had been transported with was on his knees, scrambling forward toward where his wand had tumbled down the steps.

"Stupefy!" Mercifully, Hermione hadn't relinquished her own tight grip on her wand. Hermione's spell hit him from such close range that the man flew forward, tumbling down the steps and landing twisted at an unnatural angle. The stairwell door in front of where the man had landed slammed open, crushing his twisted body against the wall. Instead of a St. Mungo's employee dressed in Healer garb however, a figure dressed in full Death Eater regalia attempted to squeeze through, blocked only by the body that forced the door to remain half shut. Hermione scrambled backward, wide-eyed as she took in the alarm that continued to blare and the man that was trying to squeeze his way into the stairwell.

St. Mungo's was under attack.

Hermione shot out a nasty slashing hex at him as she sprang to her feet, her heart thundering as she tore open the door beside her, stepping out into chaos. Healers ran about, popping away along with various patients as attendants ran past, dropping the emergency portkeys in their hands. Hermione shouldered through the chaos, her heart aching as she realized that she and Malfoy had brought this down on the hospital, on all these weak, innocent people—

It was then that high pitched screams began.

At the end of the hallway, the elevator had opened to reveal a group of Death Eaters who ran out, slashing down anyone who happened to step in their way.

The Healers were disappearing with the patients quickly, but not nearly quickly enough, and Hermione took advantage of the thinning crowd to throw up shields around those who had yet to flee. This, of course, redirected all attention to her. The frenzied crowd was thinning rapidly, and the Death Eaters zeroed in on her, immediately unleashing a litany of curses. She repelled them and threw back her own, the hall erupting into further chaos as spells whizzed around.

Hermione dodged a spell that glowed a frightening green, whispering of death as it grazed past her shoulder. She responded by exploding an abandoned hospital bed before ducking into a doorway, smiling satisfactorily when she heard multiple cries of anguish as the splintered mass flew about. When she stepped out of the room, however, her heart dropped. The door to the stairwell banged open, admitting at least a half dozen more opponents— too many. The hall was empty now except for them, and they all stormed toward her, impeded momentarily only by the blasting hex she threw at the wall opposite where she stood, leaving an explosion of concrete and plaster. She shoved her hand into her back pocket, throwing the small pouch of powder she had inside of it into the hall before exploding it, too.

Instantly, they were plunged into darkness. Hermione stumbled back into the room, biting back a curse as her shin hit the edge of the bed. Outside, she could hear the curses and shuffling of the Death Eaters as they made their way towards her, and she knew she had only moments before at least some would stumble upon the room. She scrambled back further until her back hit the wall, allowing her hands to roam along it desperately as she heard the footsteps outside drawing closer—  _there_.

Her fingers grasped the windowsill just as she felt a spell ricochet through the room in the darkness, barely missing her.

"Reducto!" she screamed, shattering the window into a heap of glass that glittered in the night sky.

Outside, everything was burning.

Tall, criss-crossing lines of flame divided the street, which was dotted equally with fleeing figures as it was with dueling ones. Hermione gaped at the display, watching the chaos in the street as Death Eaters dueled against an unseen target. People fled the scene, their screams echoing in the night amongst the chaos. She looked down, realizing that she was three stories up. Not terribly high, no, but to jump…

A hand snatched her cloak then.

"I've got the little—" the man's triumphant cry cut off as Hermione stunned him.

Knowing that she was officially out of time, she sucked in a quick breath before bounding out the window, stifling a scream as she rushed through the air. As the ground flew closer, she managed to mumble a levitation charm on her cloak and a cushioning charm on the ground just before she reached it. The result was a less than graceful landing, but a landing nonetheless. Her heart continued to race as straightened, reeling about what she had just done. Still, she drew on her adrenaline and let it pump her forward as she examined the scene around her, wand at the ready as she observed the Death Eaters scattered in the street, all furiously aiming spells in one direction. Her heart dropped as she somehow knew deep within her who they must have been aiming at.

Her husband.

She felt frozen as she stood and watched the scene unfold before her, eyes whipping to the scattered Death Eaters, some who struggled to put out the fire while others shot back deadly curses in return. As a patch of fire was put out another sprang up in its place, keeping some Death Eaters at bay while the heat seared them even as others continued to attack him. Her hands trembled even as she clutched her wand, knowing that even if she began to attack from this side, she could not guarantee that they wouldn't both perish.

As the thought crossed her mind, there were several cracks around her as new people joined in the battle. These, however, were not dressed in Death Eater garb, but were instead wearing regular clothing with their faces uncovered. Order members, she quickly realized.

Her relief was stunted with fear as she realized that despite reinforcements, Malfoy was still disguised, and most Order members — even those who knew about them — could easily mistake him for a foe, even despite his lack of Death Eater garb. No, they were no safer than they had been moments prior— she would have to act quickly indeed. She took a deep breath, then pointed her wand at herself before whispering one word: " _Aguamenti_."

Instantly, water began to spray from her wand, drenching her from head to toe until water dripped into her eyes, blurring her vision.

She took off at a run, grasping at her wand with slippery fingers the best she could as she fired off random curses at the dark-robed figures that blurred past as she charged toward the fire. She no longer knew friend from foe, trusting that any Order members she accidentally stunned would soon be rescued by their peers. Her clothes clung heavily to her, so laden with water that her movements felt almost sluggish. The heat was unbearable as she drew nearer to the fire, her heart racing as she felt herself begin to tremble as she charged closer and closer still—

And then she jumped, flying through the white-hot flames and tumbling to the cobblestone in a tucked roll, hoping to extinguish any flames that she had picked up. Flames licked the air all around her, and she looked up to see Malfoy only a few feet away, his wand trained directly at her even as she caught the light of a litany of spells sailing through the flames toward him. A curse whizzed past her head, and she sprang up, throwing back the hood of her cloak that had fallen over her head in her haste.

"It's me!" she shouted, raising her hands.

He froze, watching as she ran toward him, barrelling into him and clutching as much of him as she could before disapparating.

**X**

They landed in the main room of their cabin, both still heaving for breath. Hermione's teeth chattered as the cold wetness started to seep into her bones in the absence of the overwhelming heat of the flames, and she had just finished drying herself when Malfoy snatched her by the shoulders.

The muscles in his neck strained against his skin as he shouted, his nostrils flaring with each word as he started to shout at her. "What the  _fuck_  were you thinking?!" he thundered, his grip on her arms tightening as he shook her.

"I was  _thinking_  that you had trapped yourself in a ring of  _fire_ —"

"We shouldn't have been there in the first place!"

"And how is it my fault?" she shot back, throwing her hands in the air.

"Your fucking portkeys, Granger!" he slammed a hand into the wall. "If you had just let the damn things go—"

"And what, start murdering people?"

His nostrils flared sharply as he glared back at her. "They were going to murder  _you_ , and they damn near succeeded!"

"You don't even know what happened, and you're already throwing out accusations!"

"What I saw was that damn pouch in your hand, like it always is, as if they would have spared you even a thought before severing your hands to make you drop it."

She gritted her teeth. "That's not all that it's about, Malfoy!"

"Oh really? Because everything seems to be about your bloody morals with you Gryffindors—"

"Or  _maybe_  it's because I wasn't trained to be a murderer!" she shouted back. "Has it ever occurred to you that this" —she gestured wildly around them— "was not where I thought I'd end up, what I thought I'd have to be doing?"

Her words had been harsh, she knew, but she couldn't find it in herself to take them back, even as she watched a deeper tension set in his already rigid stance and feel the flare of his anger tickling at her consciousness.

"Is that all you think of me?" he spat out a short, humorless laugh. "That I was raised by murderers, to be nothing but a murderer whose only purpose is  _murdering_ —"

"That's not what I meant! You're so— so  _calm_  over the idea of just killing people and it's bloody alarming!"

He stalked closer to her, his broad frame looming over her. "Has it ever occurred to you that all I want is to survive this, for my mother to survive this, to see her have the peace she deserves?!"

"There is more than one way to win this war, Malfoy!" she snapped, tilting her head back to meet his gaze evenly even as he continued to loom over her. "Not every method requires that we kill at every turn, and I know that you know that too."

Malfoy scoffed. "I've told you this before— I do  _not_  care for your pretty morals."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You say that, yet Kingsley informed me that two more Death Eaters arrived at St. Mungo's after the last mission other than the one I sent myself. So do  _not_ stand there and pretend that you don't understand this, because you do!"

"What  _I_ understand is that there are things that we must do even if you don't want to because this is war and our goal is to survive, not save every bloody person that crosses our path—"

"Fuck you, Malfoy," she spat.

They were both breathing heavily, her fists clenched while he was taut and tense, his face still flushed red with anger as he glared back at her. Now that they were alone, she felt the emotions that her adrenaline had suppressed during the battle rearing up— a swirl of fear, anger, and desperation settling in the air between them, a ball of swirling tension.

And before she could register her actions, tell herself to stop this,  _stop it now_ , she surged forward and snatched his face, dragging him down into a hard kiss. He was frozen for a long beat before he snatched her up and kissed her back hard, picking her up and carrying her backward while she wrapped her legs around his waist, arching into him as he squeezed her bum hard. Their kisses were rough, open-mouthed and filled with heated breaths and bitten lips.

There was no passion in this, only a pure and almost primal need. When he finally deposited her roughly upon the desk, sending books and piles of parchment alike tumbling to the ground and scattering around them, she tore at his shirt until he helped her drag it over his head, immediately sealing his lips to hers once more. When she clawed at his trousers, he slid his hands up her shirt and into her brassiere, causing her to gasp out a moan as he pinched a nipple while she finally freed his hard, leaking cock. He was thick, enough so that her fingers couldn't close around him as she pumped him steadily.

He pulled back only to tear off her trousers and knickers in one swift movement, leaving her bare from the waist down. He threaded limber fingers through her nether curls, finding her already excessively slick and ready for him from the overwhelming feeling of their combined need that had resulted in an intense heat pooling between her thighs. His fingers came back glistening wet, and he rubbed off the slickness on her thigh before plunging his cock into her without ceremony. She cried out immediately, grasping at the desk around them for purchase. She heard an inkwell tumble over, and even as she felt the wet slickness of the ink on her palm she found that she didn't care, instead opting to grasp onto him, her hand leaving slick black marks across his pale, muscled torso. His thrusts were hard and determined, him chasing his release as she snaked her clean hand down to her clit, rubbing it fiercely as she chased her own.

Her orgasm tore through her not a moment later, and she cried out loudly, biting down onto his shoulder while pressing herself closer, seeking more friction on her clit. He dragged her hips forward suddenly as he started to pound her harder, causing her to slump back against the wall. The room was filled with the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin, punctuated by her moans and his low grunts. He came with a shudder, his cock pulsing hard in her just as she managed to crest another, smaller orgasm.

It was silent for a long while, the only sounds their heavy pants as they both caught their breaths. Malfoy had leaned forward, bracketing his muscled arms on either side of her as he caught his breath. She could feel his release steadily sliding down her thighs, coating her skin and staining the parchment that was still littered atop the desk. When their breaths finally slowed, Malfoy slowly straightened, and she slid off the desk, gathering her clothes.

And without another word, she slipped into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you've all been waiting for this, hehe. Can't wait to hear your thoughts!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for waiting so patiently for this update. So many of you have sent such kind and encouraging words since I mentioned my slowed update schedule, and I'd like to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart for being so understanding. I've had a ton going on in my private life, but things are slowly on the mend and I hope to get back to posting more regularly sometime next month. I have so much love for every one of you!
> 
> As always, a huge thank you goes out to RESimon for being such a wonderful beta.

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

She emerged from the bedroom in the early hours of the morning, the darkness outside showing only bare hints of the sun that was slowly rising. Malfoy lay asleep on the couch, his pale face looking almost angelic in repose. The sheet he slept with had fallen down sometime during the night, and was currently gathered around his waist. She allowed her eyes to sweep across his leanly muscled torso, taking in his defined abdomen down to the v-shaped dip in his hips that disappeared just below where the sheet had gathered. She realized that she couldn't tell whether he wore pants or not, and she flushed at the thought of him shifting again only to uncover his complete nakedness to her.

Knowing she could linger no further lest he wake, she hurried into the bathroom, hastily getting into the shower as she let the troubling thoughts swirl in her mind. She'd slept fitfully during the few short hours of night that had remained after their tryst, her mind assaulted with memories of what had transpired between them. She hadn't emerged from the bedroom after she'd sealed the door shut, her heart hammering too hard to even entertain the thought of going back out to shower despite the uncomfortable stickiness of his drying release that still coated her thighs. She'd cleaned herself the best she could with her wand, but even now could still the warmth and wetness deep inside her cunt.

Things had now changed between them — irreversibly. She'd let him take her roughly, had wanted it — instigated it, even. Despite the fact that it had now been several hours since the deed however, she still did not know how she felt about what had happened. The memory of the way he'd taken her with rough, practiced strokes made heat pool in her loins, while the remains of his release inside her filled her with a sea of conflicting emotions even as she washed it away, scrubbing herself nearly raw as she tried to erase the memories of her wanton actions. It was true that they'd slept together once before, but that occasion had been fraught with tension and fear, and she'd lain there resigned as she counted down the moments until he finished.

But last night...last night she'd relished in it, savored every second of the feeling of his thick cock stretching her wide as he took her with strong, practiced strokes. She'd clung to him desperately, needing the release and feeling practically every part of her body vibrating with it. Now that the light of day had come to illuminate her shame, she longed to curl up and hide until it ebbed away. But she knew that it would not — knew that it would only continue to grow until it enveloped her, reminding her that the reason behind these feelings lay just beyond the door. One of many doors that they'd constantly been using to separate themselves from each other. After what has transpired last night it felt as though the barriers between them had eroded, and the physical one that she stood staring at as she stepped out of the shower felt false.

When she finally wrapped a towel around herself and pulled the door open, she froze.

He was awake and bent over his trunk, clad only in a towel that was slung low around his waist. She felt her eyes immediately drop to roam over the defined muscles of his back before she forced herself to stop, letting her eyes stray only as far as his tensed shoulders.

"Good morning," she said.

He tensed further then turned, and she held her breath as grey eyes finally met brown. Even though her towel was tightly secured around her chest, she felt There was a long beat of silence as she tried to garner something — anything — from his unreadable expression. But then his eyes dimmed, and his expression was suddenly and startlingly clear.

Indifference.

She had yet to move from the bathroom doorway, and she felt a flare of pain in her hand from how fiercely she had been gripping the doorknob. She knew not what she had been expecting, but it hadn't been this — rejection, firm and unwavering. They were married, but not in the truest sense of the word— this she knew. She didn't know what she'd expected to encounter the morning after, but she'd thought things would be different, somehow. Even as she'd washed away the remaining slickness between her thighs, she couldn't stop the images from replaying themselves in her head.

He moved closer and she watched him, waiting to see if he would say or do  _something—_

Instead, he brushed past her and went into the bathroom, giving her just enough time to let go of the doorknob and shuffle a few steps forward before he pulled it firmly closed behind him.

By the time she made it back into the bedroom and dressed, her swirl of conflicting emotions had settled on one that pulsed beneath her every action — anger. It simmered as she prepared a simple breakfast of beans on toast, begrudgingly dropping down a plate for him as well. She ate quickly while he lingered in the shower, and when he emerged to dress, she stood from the table and went over to the desk, observing the way he'd returned the desk to pristine order sometime in the night. The pages of parchment they'd scattered were settled back into neat piles, and the books were all back in order on the bookshelf. There was no sign of what had transpired apparent on the desktop— the ink she'd spilled had been scrubbed clean, and their quills and a pristine inkwell were lined up neatly next to the parchment.

She heard him move into the kitchen behind her, settling himself at the table to eat the food she'd left out for him. Still, she said nothing, remaining with her back facing him as she fingered the pristine desk. She ran a hand along its edge as she tried to banish the memories of what had transpired atop it only hours prior. When she pulled her hand back and lifted it, she was momentarily surprised to see that some of the ink hadn't been cleaned from where it had gotten to the underside of the desk, and her fingertips came back coated in it. She rubbed it between her fingers, feeling the images she'd tried to shove down fly back to the forefront of her mind with blinding clarity, contrasting painfully against the cool demeanor of the man behind her.

When she finally turned around, fingertips still coated in ink and fists clenched, she found him watching her. His wand was in hand and he nodded toward the area he'd cleared for their daily sparring sessions. He said nothing all the while, but she had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen momentarily in surprise she as she charged forward suddenly, barely giving him time to raise his wand before she was shooting a spell at him. He barely dodged it and had no time to recover as she continued to bear down on him, propelled forward by her rage.

Their duel was like an intricate dance, a series of sharp, calculated movements surrounded by the light of the various spells they threw at each other. He was cold and unyielding while she was driven by her rage, aiming to hurt him the way the pain of his swift dismissal had hurt her. The air grew thick with tension the longer they went at it, and she lost herself in their movements, focused only on striking him as many times as possible while she tried her best to ignore the way his thin shirt clung to his body as his sweat soaked through it, or how his handsome features only looked even more striking when he had that determined glint in his eye—

She found herself suddenly pinned to the ground, Malfoy atop her with his wand pressed into the side of her neck. His body was pressed tightly against hers, and he was propped up on an elbow as he bore down over her. Their faces were so close that they were nearly touching, and their heavy breaths mingled. It felt as if all her efforts at suppressing the memories of the night before had been for naught because they surged forward then with renewed vigor, bursting effortlessly through the mental barriers she'd erected so carefully. She knew the moment he felt it too, saw his pupils blown wide with lust while his cock hardened where she could feel it pressed firmly against her thigh, causing her to grind up against him involuntarily.

Later, she would not be able to point out exactly who had started it. Instead, she would remember only the way they'd gone from glaring at each other to hot, hungry kisses that were broken only long enough to tear one another's clothing off. They were naked within moments and their sweat-slickened skin slid together as they tore at each other. The heat of their bodies combined with the heat of their combined lust had created an inferno within her, and getting closer to him felt like the only solution to put it out.

She barely registered his spell-slickened fingers on her cunt before he was parting her folds and drove into her in one hard thrust. They released a loud, combined moan, and he wasted no time in starting a steady rhythm. He was pressed atop her as he thrust, and she hooked her legs over his hips while she alternated between kissing and sucking at his neck, knowing that there would be marks left behind. He was pressed so securely against her that his pelvis brushed her clit with every thrust, and she gasped and mewled loudly, grasping him as tightly as her climax crashed over her in a wave, drowning her in ecstasy.

His thrusts ended not long after she'd loosened her hold on him, letting her arms fall weakly to her sides. As his length finished pulsing within her he moved to stand, causing her to gasp at the feeling of him dislodging his softening cock. He rolled onto his back beside her, sitting up after only a moment of catching his breath.

Before he could stand up, she reached out a hand and stilled him. "Draco," she called. "Wait."

He tensed, shivering as she ran her hand down his side to where she'd spied a small, puckered scar. It was pink and stood out against his pale skin, despite only being a few inches long. Still, she could tell from the way it had healed that it had been deep — and painful.

"What happened?" Her voice was as gentle as the finger she drew across the raised skin of his scar.

"I fell off of a pony as a child," he spat, turning away from her.

She gripped his arm before he could attempt to move away again, sitting up herself. Normally, she would have been hyper-aware of her nudity, but at that moment she knew she needed to stop him, to talk with him before he sealed himself off once more.

"Stop," she said. "You can tell me the truth."

He glared at her in a manner so forceful that she might have shrunk back months ago. Now, though, it only made her sit up straighter as she met his look evenly. "How did it happen?" she asked again, searching his eyes.

"It was my aunt," he said after a few moments of silence.

 _Bellatrix_. She should have guessed. She shivered involuntarily, thinking of the way the woman's gleeful cackle had cut into her grief as she'd happily looked down upon Dumbledore's broken body. "What did she do to you?" she asked, sweeping her eyes over the rest of his otherwise flawless skin, carefully avoiding his softening cock lest she lose her nerve.

"She trained me," he answered swiftly, volunteering no additional information.

"Trained you how?"

"She trained me to be like her."

The words were few, but the effect of them was jarring. She remained frozen on the floor even as he stood and pulled on his trousers, foregoing pants. She felt about until she grabbed a shirt that hung so low that she realized it must have been his. It brushed her upper thighs but still exposed bits of her mound that peeked from beneath it as she strode over to him and grabbed his arm once more before he could disappear out the front door as he so often did. She let her hand slide down to rest over the scar on his side, ignoring the way he tensed up at her touch.

She opened her mouth to speak and was surprised to hear him speak first. "She told me that my precious,  _pure_  blood should never be spilled uselessly. That Malfoy men should never be maimed."

"Did she," Hermione's voice caught as she tried to stop herself from picturing Bellatrix's reaction to the scar, " _punish_ you for this?"

His answering laugh was short and chilling. "No— she  _did_  this."

Hermione froze, gripping his side tighter for a moment before she circled him slowly, lifting her hands to run them over the mostly smooth skin of his chest that peppered with a fine smattering of platinum hair that she could barely see. His head was turned away from her, his jaw tense.

"Tell me— tell me what she did to you." Her concern radiated off of her in waves as she tried to get him to sense it, his bare skin clenching beneath her soothing touches. She didn't know if she'd ever seen a moment like this of pure, open vulnerability from him— if she'd ever see it again.

"She attacked me— cut me, maimed me in all the ways she said should never be visible, then taught me to heal them until not a hint of a scar remained. If it did, then I was punished further— severely." His voice was low, but she was so close that she caught every word. Each one cut like a knife, and she bit her lip to stop herself from letting tears fall as she felt his anguish wash over her in a slow wave.

He pulled away then, but did not go to the door. Instead he went and sat on the sofa, elbows braced on his knees as he buried his hands in his hair. She sat down quietly beside him, tentatively resting a hand on his thigh after he was silent for a few long moments.

"She tortured me until she deemed me resilient enough to endure. Then she tortured my mind until she thought my Occlumency skills secure. Sometimes, she would crucio me for hours on end, stopping only to pillage my mind because she thought it necessary to prod when I was at my weakest. My mother— she was able to convince  _him_  to let her stop when she tried to have me torture and kill muggles in our drawing room for training. She said that found it unbecoming for such things to occur in her home, and convinced them that I needed many more tutorials before I could partake. She argued it would be best to Mark me once I'd completed the ultimate task to prove my loyalty. They brought me to their revels to prepare me instead. It was no better."

Hermione recalled his description of what he'd witnessed at the revels, shivering involuntarily. She pulled back to wipe away a tear that had slipped down her cheek as he'd spoken, and when she looked up again he was watching her, his eyes dark.

"Does that scare you?" he spat. He has removed his hands from his hair and they were now resting on his thighs, clenched into tight fists. "Do you want to run, now that you know how truly twisted I am? Do you feel sick knowing that you're bound—"

"Draco!" she pleaded. " _Stop_. Just— look at me," she said. Her inner walls had fallen, leaving her mind as open and vulnerable as the rest of her was while she sat there, nearly completely naked. She forced herself not to cover herself, not to pull away in any fashion even though she rarely left her Occlumency shields anything other than perfectly fortified, and his shirt that she wore had ridden up to the point where her mound was visible no matter how she sat.

She saw it when he finally caught the raw honesty in her expression. He unclenched his fists, letting his shoulders slump forward.

"I'm not here to judge you, Draco—"

"Oh, but you have," he scoffed.

"—not anymore," she finished. "I was unfair in the past. I didn't...I couldn't conceive things from your perspective, not then. But now, after all that's happened, I understand. I do."

He said nothing in response— did not even look at her— but she took a deep breath and continued anyway. "Morality, for me, used to exist on a single plane. Even though I've always known that the line between  _light_ and  _dark_  was a tenuous and ever-changing construct at best, my belief in the Order has nonetheless always been firmly rooted in the idea that all of their good actions would lead to good consequences with minimal deviations along the way. But now…" she sighed, knowing that she needn't elaborate on the experiences they'd both had up to this point.

"I...I understand why you kill, Draco. It's not because you want to, or have to. It's because if we don't kill them, they'll kill us. Our loved ones. Innocent people. But still—" she swallowed, looking away, "it doesn't mean that every murder I commit isn't a choice. The first— he had no humanity left, of that I was certain. But for others, I can't help but wonder...what if they're like you? What if they'd been forced into it, and are only looking for a way out? It's a choice every time. It's not a decision that you make once, a switch you can flip that makes every subsequent incident okay because you did it the first time. But I know what has to happen, what we have to do, as much as I know that I might lose myself and muddy the lines of everything I'd taken as  _right_ and  _wrong_ up until this point."

"We do what we have to, Granger. Not because we want to."

"I know," she whispered. "I know."

**X**

That night as she made her way back to the bedroom after several long hours of silent research, she paused in the doorway, her hand clutching the knob tightly as she hesitated. She turned to see Malfoy sitting up on the couch, looking back at her with a questioning look in his eyes as he caught her hesitation. She bit her lip and glanced down, then carefully met his eyes with a steady look as she deliberately pushed the door wide open. She had stopped denying it to herself, because the events of the past twenty-four hours had made it abundantly clear—

Everything had changed.

And with the light of the main room spilling into the bedroom, she turned and strode to the bed. She slid under the covers just as she heard him enter behind her and close the door softly behind him, sealing them in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have changed quite a bit now, haven't they? :) Can't wait to hear your thoughts.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience in waiting for this chapter. When I initially announced my hiatus a few months back, I hoped I was being liberal by estimating things would go back to normal by August. That unfortunately did not turn out to be the case. If there's anything I've learned during this time, it's that things can go from bad to so much worse in an instant. I can't even begin to describe how tumultuous of a time it has been recently, but the words of support I've received from so many of you mean the world to me. Writing has always and will always be a release for me, but please bear with me while I slowly pick back up to where my update schedule was before. I can't announce a definitive end to my slowed schedule for now, but thank you for being so patient.
> 
> In other news, I am happy to announce that now I have a second beta — Jamethiel! She has a fantastic track record and RESimon and I are excited to have her on board for the rest of this fic. A huge thank you goes out to both of them for their work on this chapter.

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

When Hermione woke, she was alone.

She sat up, running a hand over the empty space where Malfoy had been lying. There was no sign that he had been there at all; a direct contrast to the way the feeling of his warm body sliding into bed behind her had felt only hours ago. She couldn't banish the memory of his radiating warmth behind her, nor memory of the way his hand had felt under hers as she'd guided it to her hip. She'd felt his intentions although he did not voice them. Her skin still tingled where she'd slid their intertwined hands up her thigh, taking her nightgown up with it, and revealing how she was bare underneath. It was only a moment before she'd felt his bare length pressing forward at her entrance. He'd slid inside with ease, setting the pace in a slow grind until she'd turned her head into her pillow, gasping and moaning into it until she'd rubbed herself to completion shortly before he'd shuddered out his own release. She'd managed to keep her eyes from drooping closed only long enough to whisper a quick contraceptive spell before she'd succumbed to the pull of slumber.

Her hand rested on the now-cold space his body had occupied, knowing that the memory of him was seared into the sheets despite the fact that no evidence of his presence remained. She didn't know what she'd expected but couldn't deny that the room felt colder and emptier on this particular morning. It contrasted sharply against the distinct wet stickiness that remained between her thighs; the only evidence that she'd had a companion at all. It was the second morning in a row that she'd woken feeling this way, and the throbbing ache his thickness left behind in her felt more pronounced each time.

When she finally emerged from the bedroom, she found the cabin empty. The only sign he'd been there at all was a plate of food that sat out on the table for her, charmed for warmth. She let her eyes rest on the sofa, noting the signs that he had indeed slept there the previous evening.

With a final look around the empty cabin, she turned and went into the bathroom, determined to wash away as much of what troubled her as she could.

**X**

When he'd finally returned that evening, he'd paused to look at her when she greeted him. The minute she'd met his eyes, she'd recognized the same shuttered look she'd grown accustomed to. Gone was the raw openness of the day before, buried deep under the barriers he rarely let down. He'd finally answered her greeting with a grunt before he'd settled himself on the couch with his own tomes scattered around him. The distance he'd put between them felt wider than a chasm. She often found herself watching him until his eyes would meet hers, and she'd look away quickly, unable to meet the hard look she often found in them. This time there was no coldness, no indifference, no unambiguous dismissal of her — just... _nothing_. Not a movement in acknowledgment was made, and he carried on as though as was as it had been before.

Two weeks passed before they slept together again.

They'd been sparring in the middle of the main room, dancing around each other in a way that deliberately left a constant distance between them, thick with the tension that had yet to dissipate. They'd been stalking around each other in a tense circle, shooting spells at each other with intense precision. The circle had slowly started to tighten, drawing them dangerously close together until they'd been at a mere arm's length from each other. After that, everything had occurred in a blur — one moment they were surrounded in an explosion of light, and the next it had felt as though they were literally aflame, a mass of heated tension as they'd all but torn each others' clothing off. This time, he'd taken the time only to tear open a wide hole in her leggings while she'd quickly vanished her knickers, leaving herself bare and open for him. He'd then deposited her roughly upon the countertop before plunging into her. There was no drawing out their pleasure, only frenzied gasps and grunts as they sped towards their mutual release. It was over in minutes, and he disappeared into the bathroom before she could catch her breath.

After that, they began sparring outside.

Outside they were more careful not to let their stray spells damage the multitude of wards that had been erected around the cabin. Their sparring had become more intricate as time passed, and they now met each others' moves equally. Despite the chill, she would grow sweaty quickly, all the while ignoring all of the conflicting emotions that pulsed within her. He widened the distance further for every accidental slip either of them made, the tense air between them feeling more taut with each step.

No matter how much distance he attempted to put between them, she couldn't escape. Impressions of what'd they'd done permeated their environment, drawing her focus at every turn. She would be eating at the dining table when her eyes would land upon _that_ spot on the wooden floor, and she would suddenly be flooded with memories of the way he'd taken her roughly in that very spot. She would catch him after he'd just emerged from the shower, surreptitiously watching the rivulets of water slowly descending into his towel until he'd catch her staring yet again.

It was undeniable that _he_ was everywhere, and what they'd done was everywhere, too.

**X**

They'd been sparring on the grass for the past hour. The fall air was chilly on her skin, the trees around them having turned the forest's canopy into a sea of muted oranges and reds. For every step she took forward, he took one back, keeping the tense air between them taut. He was little more than a wingspan away, yet she could not deny that it felt much further.

She realized a second too late that she'd let her thoughts drift again, and she ducked to dodge the spell he had aimed at her. She scrambled for purchase on the dew-slickened grass to no avail and found herself barrelling into him, taking him down to the ground with her until they landed in a heap. She met his eyes for a long beat, unable to ignore the way their breaths mingled.

A second later they were upon each other, their kisses hot and hungry as they pulled at each others' clothing. It was only when he'd pulled off her jeans and knickers and had muttered a quick lubrication charm that she'd forced herself to place a hand on his chest, stopping him.

"I— can't." She forced the words out despite the pulsing need at the apex of her thighs and how near he was. Had she shifted just a fraction, he would have slipped inside easily.

He had frozen atop her, his pupils still blown with lust.

"My period," she explained.

She watched as his expression shuttered closed, melting into the cold, hard mask she'd grown accustomed to. He'd tucked himself away and gone back inside before she'd barely moved.

It wasn't until a few weeks later that she realized he was drowning in the _after_ , too.

What were they, beyond their circumstances? She had found herself unable to take off her wedding ring despite the fact that it represented nothing. The intricate, glittering piece of jewelry served only to emphasize how much of a caricature their relationship was. After all of this, what would they be? It was true that they would be husband and wife for the rest of their lives, but that title was only in the strictest sense of the word. Even now, she could not even say that they were friends, let alone lovers. They were… nothing. Simply adversaries forced to co-exist in these tenuous circumstances — near-strangers who went to one another only for release.

For them, there was no after.

He would go. He would leave the second they were free from the suffocating clutches of this war, leading a life that would be seemingly completely unconnected from her own until they one day dropped dead simultaneously. She sat up in bed, rubbing her hands along the goosebumps that seemed to have permanently etched themselves into her skin. The full moon shone brightly through the window — the only source of light besides the sliver that shone through the door that she had yet to be able to fully close.

If she had the choice to return to Harry and Ron and be welcomed with open arms, would she? She thought of the stirring of _something_ that she'd undeniably begun to feel for Malfoy. The thought roused a telltale lurch in her stomach. The feeling was equal parts queasiness and something else that hovered below it, persisting like an itch that she couldn't quite scratch or spell away. It was true that they had both consigned themselves to a life without intimacy with anyone but one another. When they'd made the bargain, it had been shrouded in an undercurrent of _if._ Neither had expected to survive this war although they never said so. If they somehow did — foregoing physical intimacy with another would be a small sacrifice.

Yes, it was best that they ended whatever _this_ was now and focused on surviving this war, if only long enough to save their loved ones. _That_ was their mission — not each other.

The next time they dueled in the morning dew, it was Hermione who charmed them until she was certain they wouldn't slip again.

**X**

They fell back into the routine they'd had before. The only apparent change was the way they both steadily avoided even a step too close. He'd taken to doing his research on the dining table while she'd stayed at the desk. The Order called them only a couple of times. Those missions had mostly lead to dead ends; scattered bodies speaking of the horrors that had occurred before the Death Eaters had abandoned the scene.

One evening, Hermione sat at the desk, tracing the scorch marks the charmed coin had left scattered across the desk. Each mission had taken something unexplainable out of her, hardening her further against the carnage. Visions of the mangled bodies she'd seen on missions no longer tore her out of her sleep screaming. Instead, they began prowling the moment she let her eyes flutter shut, lurking until she'd been forced to reach into their small store of potions to take Dreamless Sleep when she could no longer bear it. In her waking hours, she practiced filing the images away, vainly hoping that they would someday begin to stay that way while she dreamed.

As if on cue, the coin began to burn, raising a ring of smoke around where it lay on the desk. Her heart dropped as she watched it for a moment, desperately wanting to ignore it. The visions of all the bodies they'd seen plagued her mind in a torrent, and she forced back her pain.

"Malfoy." She hadn't called him by his first name since the last time they'd nearly slept together. The distance of forming the word felt all too fitting now.

She hadn't needed to say what she'd called him for. He crossed over, reading the coordinates on the coin quickly. "It's in London." He pointed at the spot he'd marked on the map.

They hadn't been anywhere populated on a single mission they'd been on. She recalled the last time she'd been in London, in the sprawling hotel suite with a windowed wall that had overlooked the city. Looking at Malfoy now, she saw the same hard look in his eyes that she'd seen then, knowing that he, too, was burying all they'd seen beneath his own Occlumency walls.

She looked closer at the map, realizing with a chill that she knew the area very well. The Death Eaters were getting bolder. "It's not far from—"

"Diagon Alley," Malfoy finished for her.

**X**

They arrived in minutes, having only paused to glamour Malfoy with a few quick, sloppy gestures before departing. His hair had come out bright red, but was presently covered by his large cloak that was barely visible in the darkness. They heard laughter echoing down the alleyway, and her hand trembled as she heard screams follow it. They quickened their pace, and she pressed close to him while they rushed toward the mouth of the alley they'd apparated into.

The attackers were upon them in an instant.

A spell struck Hermione in the arm. Pain blossomed in its wake, and she cried out. She flung out a spell at her attacker before striking one of the two that had descended upon Malfoy in the back.

Carnage lay before them.

A pile of broken bodies were scattered in the street. The clothing on the corpses ranged from robes to Muggle clothing alike. Hermione managed only to choke out a horrified gasp before several streaks of light lit the air as a multitude of curses shot towards her. Her shield absorbed only one curse; Malfoy's shield got the rest. The air filled with the pops of apparition as the Death Eaters scattered around them started disappearing.

She charged forward, throwing curses at as many of the rapidly disappearing figures as she could. Most missed their mark, fizzling out into the night as their targets disappeared. A hand clamped down on her arm, and she shot a hex at it that made the man's skin bubble. She left his screams in her wake as she continued to run forward, her trainers pounding on the pavement. She spotted Malfoy dueling with two men ahead and quickly threw a spell that grazed one of Malfoy's attacker's ears, causing blood to begin gushing from the wound. Before she could cast another hex, she heard a scream. She stopped in her tracks, whipping toward the sound.

It was a Muggle woman.

She was bleeding from the mouth even as she choked out strangled shrieks. Her blonde hair was matted with more blood, the crimson liquid almost glittering in the moonlight that shone on the pavement. Hermione made it only a few steps toward her before a boot mashed down on the woman's head. Her screams increased in pitch as the boot dug deeper into her cheek, and Hermione raised her eyes to stare at the wizard. His mouth was curved in a smirk, and he lowered his wand to point it at the woman's head.

Hermione's mouth opened in a frozen scream. She tried to raise her wand, only for a set of arms to clamp around her, trapping her arms to her body. The last thing she saw as she was wrenched backward was a flash of green light that connected with the woman's skull, cutting off her strangled screams.

"I remember you, bitch," the man who'd grabbed her said in her ear. "I'm goi—"

His words were cut off as she reared her head back and smashed it into his skull. His grip loosened just enough for her to twist her wand and press it into his thigh, feeling his blood soak her trousers as it spurted from the wound.

Not a second later, the man crumpled to the ground. She whirled to find Malfoy behind them, his wand still pointed at where the Wizard had stood. Spells continued to light up the air around them, and she managed only to snatch Malfoy's sleeve before they, too, disappeared.

They landed in the bedroom of their cabin. Hermione's heart was still racing, and she still gripped his hand hard. "What is happening, Malfoy? What is their purpose? Why do they keep—"

"It's war, Granger." His voice was stiff. "There is no purpose to _any_ of it — their goal is destruction. Nothing more — or less."

Hermione looked down at where the man's blood still trickled down her trainers, leaving several droplets on the bedroom floor.

"We can let the Order remove the bodies — " Malfoy stopped short as she bent down and began siphoning the blood from her clothes into a vial she'd summoned from the main room. "What are you doing?"

She ignored him, rushing out of the bedroom and over to the desk where she scattered her research notes until she found the page she had been searching for.

"Fresh blood," she mumbled to herself as she held up the vial of swirling liquid in the light. "That was it."

"That was what, Granger?" Malfoy had followed behind her, and she turned to see him staring at the vial with an unreadable expression on his face.

"I think — I think I can track them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support and for bearing with me during this difficult time.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you goes out to my betas, RESimon and Jamethiel.

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he stared at the vial of swirling crimson liquid. "How?"

Hermione scanned her notes again. "I've been working on modifying the tracking spell we've been using so that we" — she dipped the tip of her wand into the vial and watched the liquid start to glow red as the murmured the incantation — "can locate them." She held it over the map and watched it tremble before it hovered over a place she did not recognize in the top corner of the map.

Malfoy's eyes traveled between the place the map had indicated and the crimson glow of the blood, his expression unreadable. He gave her a short, sharp nod before he turned and headed to the door. His cloak billowed behind him with his swift movements, and it took her a moment to gather her bearings before she followed him.

He was already outside the wards by the time she caught up to him. "Do you know this place?"

Another short, sharp nod, and he reached out for her hand. She clutched his back, not missing the way his fingers tensed around hers. They Apparated into a densely packed forest. Its thick canopy blocked any moonlight, and she continued to clutch his hand tightly as he took small steps forward, feeling about in the darkness. His steps were still sure and it took only minutes for them to approach an area where the trees had started thinning enough to illuminate his figure before her.

She let go of his hand and immediately felt it twitch back toward him as she felt an uneasy chill settle in the air around them. "Where are we?" Her whisper was nearly carried away by the soft breeze that swayed through the trees surrounding them. "I felt—"

"The wards have been designed to let you in." His tone was low and curt.

Of course — a Malfoy family property. "Oh." She lapsed back into silence, still following him closely. His frame was more rigid with tension than usual, and she continued to watch him carefully as the moonlight continued to waft through the thinning trees and illuminate his form. It was only minutes before their destination became visible ahead of them. Despite the sense of urgency she felt pressing upon her in the air around them she could not help pausing.

It was stunning. A beautiful, sprawling cottage stood before them. It was nestled on the edge of a lake and surrounded by trees that appeared to have been charmed to maintain their canopy of blossoming leaves and flowers despite rapidly cooling temperatures. It appeared to have only two floors and was sizeable on the outside, but Hermione did not doubt that the inside had been charmed to reflect the Malfoys' taste for grandeur.

She would have taken longer to appreciate its beauty were it not for the Death Eaters milling about. Their dark clothing stuck out like blemishes against the beauty of the property. Each step they took seemed to stamp away the tranquil beauty of the place. At once, Hermione understood the tension that had settled in Malfoy's stature since they had arrived. She turned to him only to find him watching the scene before them with narrowed eyes. His hand was clenched hard around his wand.

"Wait." His eyes shot to hers when she folded a hand over his own. "There are at least a dozen of them, maybe mor—"

She cut off as a loud crack of apparition sounded before them.

It was Bellatrix Lestrange.

Her throat felt dry. She stood only a dozen feet away, so close that Hermione could see the manic gleam in her eye. Bellatrix held a bleeding man by his upper arm. Hermione watched in strangled silence as Bellatrix threw him to the ground in a heap and pressed her boot down on his throat.

"You are _nothing_ ," she hissed, grinding her boot deeper into the man's throat. His response was garbled as he grasped feebly at her boot. "You are nothing but a guard!"

The man's leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, and when Bellatrix dragged him up, he screamed as it twisted further. A beam of low moonlight illuminated the man's face. There was nothing but a blackened wound and dried blood in the place of where one of his ears should have been. It was the man whose ear she had cursed off earlier. His mangled body was a testament to the damage they had done to him.

"A pathetic little guard." Bellatrix shoved the tip of her wand against the man's throat. Her manic eyes glittered in the low light as she hissed a spell that made the man gurgle harder before he fell to the ground, motionless. Bellatrix's mouth curved into a smile before she turned and began sauntering off, humming a disjointed tune.

Hermione looked over to Malfoy. His body was nearly trembling with tension. He held his wand so tightly that his knuckles had gone white while his other hand gripped the tree beside him just as hard. He was coiled as tight as a snake, poised to spring forward. The sudden onslaught of fury that washed over her felt almost foreign. She barely felt anything from him, and the sudden wave of it was so overwhelming that she, too, nearly trembled under the boiling tension of it.

Her hand on his chest had him turning to her. His eyes were wide, his entire expression unhinged. Gone was his usual stoic, reserved self. It was as though every compartment he kept his emotions carefully folded away in had been thrown open, releasing a torrent of chaos.

"We can't—" She cut off as he tried to lunge forward regardless, stopped only by her throwing her weight against him. The grass they tumbled down onto cushioned most of the sound of their fall, yet her heart was still firmly lodged in her throat as she clamped down a hand over his mouth. The air was still around them, and she imagined Bellatrix paused mid-step, looking around as she tried to discern whether the noise had been that of a creature or not. She could hear little besides the pounding of her heart and the sharp breaths that Malfoy took through his flared nostrils.

"Please," she begged him silently, her mouth forming the word although no sound came out.

She tried to focus all of her energy on listening for even the whisper of a sound that would signal Bellatrix's approach, but Malfoy wrenched her arms off of him, sending her tumbling down beside him. He lunged up again, and she followed, wand at the ready as she imagined Bellatrix poised before the thick bush that blocked her view.

She spotted Bellatrix far ahead, still sauntering toward the cottage as she had been and appearing entirely unperturbed.

"Please," she grasped Malfoy's arm before he could tear through the bush after her. "We'll come back. I _swear_ it—"

At that, he stopped to look at her. "No." The word was as chock-full of anger as the rest of him, undercut by a raw emotion that she hadn't the time to place.

"There are at least a dozen of them, not including her. We're only two people— we'll be killed. We need backup—"

" _Fuck_ your bloody Order!" His voice raised, and she cut a panicked look back toward the cottage. Bellatrix was barking orders at the men and the sound of her voice that drifted to Hermione had chills settling in Hermione's spine. Malfoy's eyes continued to cut between her and Bellatrix. He was calculating, and she realized she was losing.

She snatched him by both arms. "We'll come back," she said, her voice ringing with finality.

Before he could protest, she disapparated them.

They landed in the sitting room. His rage was all the more prominent in the light, and Hermione realized that he looked almost as manic as Bellatrix herself.

"What the _fuck_ , Granger!" His voice boomed in the confines of the cabin, and she fought the urge to shrink back. "You could have splinched me—"

"But I didn't!" she snapped. "You were about to risk _both_ of our lives!"

He ground his teeth together, still snarling at her.

"I meant it when I said we can go back." She kept her voice even despite the way he loomed over her, a stormcloud of rage.

"You want to call in the bloody Order that'll use nothing but pathetic stunners to take them down!" His pale skin was flushed an angry red. "We have to end this— end _them—"_

"I know," Hermione answered. "I have a plan."

He stewed silently, but seemed to be giving her an opening for an explanation. "Trust me," she said, folding a hand over where he clenched his wand once again. She met his eyes and held them, not backing away from the pure rage she still caught in them. "Please."

His nod was short and nearly imperceptible, but she caught it nonetheless.

"That night— our last night at Hogwarts— when you-" she forced out the words, not missing the way his expression twitched at the mention. "When you guided them in. Do you still have—"

His eyes sharpened as they met hers. "Yes," he nodded in understanding. "I do."

**X**

Diagon Alley was shrouded in a silence that she knew could be attributed to something beyond the late hour. Many of its late-night haunts were shuttered, and nary a stray flicker of candlelight illuminating a window could be seen. It was an unsettling feeling that went beyond the ball of tension that near-constantly roiled in the pit of her stomach. This was the true cost of war — silence. Emptiness.

"Down here." She ducked down an alleyway and he followed her silently. When they emerged on the other end, their destination loomed in front of them.

When shrouded in darkness, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes appeared almost sinister. The large mounted mask of a grinning jester that hung over the storefront appeared to be twisted in a cruel smile, looming over them knowingly. The disillusionment spell she'd cast over them felt thin and inadequate in its eerie presence and her neck strained as she kept looking around them, trying to spot anyone looming in the shadows as they rushed to the door.

"I'm certain that they favored traps over complicated locking spells," she said as she analyzed the spells on the door. "We'll need to tread carefully." It took only moments for her to break through the spells and wards, and they were soon stepping into the darkened shop.

Inside was even more ominous than the store's facade. They were surrounded by darkness and the hums and whirs of various gadgets. For a moment, the sounds transported her back to the moment she'd stepped into Dumbledore's office on that fateful night that everything had changed. The noises haunted her with every step she took, a perverse soundtrack to their movements.

 _Whir. Hiss. Click._ She reached out to grasp Malfoy's hand and pull him closer only to find him so close that she could nearly feel his breath.

She spotted him raising his wand and snatched it down. "We can't summon it — they're the type to have the items themselves hexed as well."

They continued to take careful steps forward. Hermione had risked only the dimmest light on her wand that illuminated only what was directly in front of them. The noise of the whirs and ticks felt as though they were dimly growing louder as they moved forward, matching the heavy thuds of her heartbeat. Cloaked in darkness, the store's contents were dark and menacing, looming over them as they passed by in a way that only hastened the chills that ran down Hermione's spine. They were slow in proceeding, and it felt as though a full hour had passed by the time she stopped in front of a display case. She lifted her wand to illuminate the neatly packed rows of pouches within. The pouches were the same inky black shade as the powder contained within them, shining softly in the light.

She cast a spell that revealed a number of hexes and wards surrounding them. Wordlessly, Malfoy helped her dismantle them. They were soon gathering pouches and dropping them into her small satchel. The case was nearly empty by the time they finished and were turning to leave. They took slow, careful steps back toward the exit. Every move Hermione made overly cautious, as if—

The whirring and buzzing stopped.

They both froze, turning to each other with wide, panicked eyes.

The shop burst into a sea of blinding color, the darkness ripped away abruptly. They charged toward the main doors as explosions of light and color shattered around them. The sparks stung her skin as they descended upon her, and a wet, slimy substance poured down upon them from an unidentifiable source. It clung thickly to her skin, and when it stuck to her face she could barely wipe it away from her eyes. She stumbled and nearly fell. She felt around for Malfoy, managing only a strangled noise as the liquid clung to her lips when she opened them. Chaos continued to ravage the shop, descending into ominous vibrations that made her tremble even more violently. Her hands slid and then stuck to what she touched, and she tripped and fell when she blindly tried to scramble forward. She tried to stand again, yelping when she felt an iron grip latch onto her arm and lurch her back to her feet.

"Come!" Malfoy shouted over the chaos.

She felt rather than saw when they stumbled outside, feeling the cool night air on her face. She managed only a few steps before something wrapped around her ankle and jerked her backward violently. She heard Malfoy curse as he wrestled with it while she desperately dug her fingers into the cobblestone and tried to spell away the substance in her eyes. When Malfoy finally slashed at it successfully, she saw a vine of sorts that had slimy and bulbous skin flop to the ground just as she managed to clear the substance from her eyes. The vine leaked a thick yellow substance onto the cobblestone that mingled with the slime that still seeped out of the shop.

There were several cracks of apparition nearby followed by an "Oi!"

Hermione saw only a flash of red hair before Malfoy snatched her arm and disapparated them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 will be up next week. Thank you all for your patience and support.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to RESimon and Jamethiel for their beta work.

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

They landed in a forest.

Hermione wheezed in thick gulps of air, the cold feeling razor-sharp as it dragged through her lungs. The pain of it took her breath away and forced her to suck down even more razor-sharp lungfulls. She couldn't stop, and each breath felt deeper and more desperate than the last. The pain only burrowed further with each heaving breath she took, and she clawed desperately at her throat in hopes of reprieve. Images of several red-headed figures assaulted her, their wands pointed at her while their expressions were twisted in masks of hatred and disgust.

Cool fingers locked around her own, tugging her hands away from her throat. "Granger." His voice was an anchor, dragging her out of the clawing darkness. "Breathe."

_Breathe. Focus._

She exhaled a ragged breath, focusing on the feeling of the stinging cold on her skin, in her, burrowing deeper—

" _Breathe_."

This time her breath was shorter, sharper.

"Again."

The next breath still stung but didn't feel like knives burrowing into her stomach. She grasped at his hands as firmly as he had hers, and her fingers were tight but neither pushing nor pulling.

"Open your eyes."

She forced them open on his command. His words wrapped around the invisible vise in her consciousness and tugged at it. She took a long, slow blink; the feeling of it almost lethargic. She took another and then her eyes rested on him. Even in the darkness, his eyes glittered lowly. The sharp grey of them nearly matched the hazy moon that hung high in the sky somewhere above them. She locked onto them, unable to tear her eyes from his. His mouth continued to move although her eyes did not stray, and she followed his directions almost robotically. _Breathe. Blink. Focus_.

She let herself focus on him. From his searching eyes down to the way his full lips formed each word as he repeated them like a mantra. She took a deep breath and let her eyes flutter shut again, focusing on the feel of him. He was close enough that his steady breaths mingled with hers. The cool air robbed them of most warmth, but she felt it radiating off of his form nonetheless. He still held her hands firmly. There was a sliver of space that was cooler than the rest of his hand, and her eyes slowly opened to settle them upon the weight of his wedding ring on his finger.

"I—" Her voice was raw.

"We were not discovered." He offered no more, but realization washed over her as she swept her eyes over him, taking in his hair that was still charmed a vibrant red. His clothing was still spattered with some of the various substances that had rained down upon them.

She looked around at the dark, quiet forest they stood in. "Where are we?"

He dropped her hands and twisted away slightly, eyes scanning the trees. "Are you able to complete our task?"

Instantly, her throat once again felt as though it was closing. She looked away, opening her mouth and closing it again. Her mind was immediately assaulted images of red-headed figures, except a lone black-haired figure was now in their midst. This time, they were dead. Their bodies were mangled, twisted in ways she wasn't certain if she'd seen before or if she'd conjured herself, dragged up from the depths of her nightmares—

"Yes." The word was the clearest she'd spoken so far, nearly completely devoid of the rising terror that roiled in her gut as she shoved it down deeper.

"Granger."

His fingers were upon her jaw, forcing her to look at him. "I need you—" His teeth were gritted, and she could see him struggling to find the words over the mask of cool indifference he'd rarely shaken. "I need you to focus. If we're going to save anyone, you need to focus."

"I will," she answered, already drawing on her Occlumency to block what she hadn't the strength to do herself. She folded back the images and memories that plagued her and burrowed them deeper into her mind until her mask of blank focus settled into place.

They Apparated away the second her hand settled into his. They once again landed in a darkened forest, their surroundings as dark as they'd been moments before.

A cold sense of dread seeped into her. It settled over her, feeling heavy as she tried to move. She swept her mind clear and folded it away. They there to infiltrate — there was no room for it.

They moved through the forest in air felt only more frigid as they moved closer to their destination. A low mist had settled along the forest floor, compounding the ominous sense of discomfort she hadn't been able to banish completely. They paused only to erect a few wards of their own, and it was all too soon before they were crouched in familiar shadows in view of the cottage. He turned to her and gave her a sharp nod before he disillusioned himself and cast the same spell over her.

She could see the blur in the air where he was but shivered nonetheless when he spoke into her ear. "We need to be quick and precise. We might not have minutes —"

"I'm alright." Her voice was flat, devoid of the emotions she'd buried deep in her mind. "Let's go."

She caught a slight shimmer in the air where he was and nodded back at him, unsure if that had even been his gesture at all. Before either of them could hesitate, she moved forward, crouching as she crept away. When her boots hit the plush grass she felt too exposed under the bright moonlight and picked up speed. She breezed between the two men that were stationed in front of the cottage. Their eyes were sharp as they observed their surroundings, but they nonetheless missed her completely. She knew that she would be but a featureless blur in the air to anyone who focused long enough, but it did not stop her heart from racing as she tore toward the cabin. This close, it was even more beautiful than it had been from afar. Despite the chilly weather the array of exotic flowers that grew around the property bloomed brightly, caught in a magical stasis of mesmerizing color.

She stopped and cast a detection spell that revealed several people moving about inside. All of the figures moved with casual slowness, and all were gathered on the first floor. Certain that there were no prisoners inside, she moved closer and looked up at the first window before her. She admired the beauty of the craftsmanship that had gone into making it appear quaint yet luxurious, another perfect piece of the grand architecture that sprawled before her.

Then she pointed her wand and exploded it.

It shattered into a cloud of fine shards as it blew inward. She heard yelps of surprise from within before another shatter sounded from across the way, sending the room's occupants into chaos. Before anyone could investigate the assault, she tossed a pouch through the broken class before she exploded it as well. She heard the pounding footsteps of one of the guards from the front approaching her, and stunned him before exploding another pouch behind her. The lush foliage was immediately swallowed by the impenetrable darkness the powder created. The inky blackness of it began to rise into the sky, swallowing the stars and parts of the moon as it went.

She couldn't waste a moment. She charged toward the next window and repeated her first assault, doing the same for the next two she bounded toward. When she rounded a corner at the back of the property, she froze as she was met by a wall of darkness. She spun, panicking as she saw her own cloud rapidly approaching. She ran towards the rapidly closing gap where she could still see the blossoming grass. Her boots pounded the grass as she ran. Her heartbeat sped up almost impossibly faster as the lighted area diminished to nearly a sliver. She could hear the shouts of the men behind her — all around her — as they poured out of the house only to find themselves cloaked in the same impenetrable darkness she was in. She whipped her head around as she tried to find Malfoy, desperate to see the beacon of light that he was supposed to be carrying.

When his hand clamped down on her arm, she immediately knew it was him. He looked down at her, the Hand of God in one hand and his wand caught tightly in the other where he held her. The light was a beacon of comfort in the chaos, and she forced herself to take slow, steady breaths. He looked down at her, a question in his eyes.

"I'm alright," she whispered. The shouts around them continued to grow louder. His hand snaked down to catch hers and she followed him forward. They moved as quickly as they dared, ever aware of the shouts of the men around them as they tried to navigate the inky blackness. When one ventured close enough, they shot them down with a quick spell before continuing on and cutting down as many that stepped into their wake as they could. It felt easier, somehow, for Hermione to not have to see the men's bodies as they fell, not to see their bones shattered or their skin rotting with whichever nasty curses she shot at them.

" _You_." The voice startled her as a man suddenly appeared beside them, the tip of his wand at her throat.

Before he could utter another word, there was a flash of light from Malfoy's wand and he crumpled to the ground, disappearing into the blackness once again.

They took off at a run then, the Hand bouncing in the darkness as they tore forward. The sense of dread she'd been fighting off since they'd returned to the property had only grown more persistent. Her skin tingled with the feeling even as they finally burst into the night.

Without a moment's hesitation, Malfoy turned and pointed his wand at the darkness. A roaring dragon made of flames shot from the end of it, lighting a bright path through the blackness before it burst into a brighter flame as it caught the cottage. She could nearly taste the death and destruction the flames brought upon the air, consuming everything in their wake.

Beside her, something moved in the darkness.

Hermione's head whipped to the movement, eyes narrowing at the darkness and mist that obscured her vision. An unsettling feeling settled upon her chest, comingling with the dread that had only grown stronger with every step they'd taken back into the darkened forest. "Malfoy," she started, eyes still whipping around in the dark, "something's wrong—"

A hand clamped down on her ankle and she shot a spell at it as she stumbled back, stifling a scream. From the mists beyond the first figure rose another. It was rotting skin that clung to bone, its limbs twisted awkwardly even as it moved with surprising swiftness.

Inferi.

Malfoy snatched her hand and started to run. More inferi flew out of the darkness, attacking them from all sides as they ran, their feet pounding on the ground as they charged forward. An inferi barrelled into her from the side, sending her tumbling down into the dirt. It clawed at her with its rotting, skeletal fingers as she felt along the ground for where her wand had slipped from her fingers. Her hand closed around its base when another sprung forth. She blasted them both away before she was dragged upright. Around them, the air had begun to light up with curses as the shouts of the Death Eaters grew closer. They took off again, running desperately forward.

 _Keep moving,_ she repeated to herself even as the chaos continued around them. Inferi and Death Eaters alike pursued them as they continued to tear toward the wards.

Just as she cast a detection spell that revealed the wards which stood only feet away from them, a figure Apparated before them. Terror seized her heart like a vise, bringing her heart to a shuddering stop before it resumed in a staccato.

It was Bellatix.

Her lips were pulled back over her teeth as she took deep, violent breaths. Her entire figure trembled as she pointed her wand at Hermione, her eyes wide and wild.

"FOOLS!" she screeched. The sound grated deep, and she shrank back instinctively.

Before Hermione could move, her head snapped back as she was lifted into the air with a violent jerk of the woman's wand. An invisible force closed around her neck, suffocating her. Its force was unrelenting, closing in harder and harder as she struggled. Her vision blurred through the tears that stung her eyes. She clawed desperately against the invisible force at her throat with one hand while she slowly stretched the other, attempting to summon her wand. Behind Bellatrix she saw Malfoy doubled over, one pale hand clutching his own throat as they both slowly suffocated under the force of the spell. She imagined him drowning in the all-consuming cold she'd felt when he'd nearly died all those months ago, the memory renewing the strength with which she tried to summon her wand.

The force was gone just as her wand flew into her hand. She stumbled to the forest floor in a heap, heaving for breath. She stumbled to her feet and found Malfoy with Bellatrix pinned against a tree. The woman somehow looked even wilder, thrashing below the force of his spell. His wand was steady as he held it toward her, his eyes narrowed in a concentration so fierce that she feared it. She'd seen him angry before, but hadn't seen the true depths of it. The rage that was painted on his face now was cold and heartless, devoid of any emotion.

"We have to go!" she shouted. Her words fell on deaf ears and Malfoy only flicked his wand harder. Bellatrix's skin had darkened as she strained under the spell that was slowly sucking away her life force.

She shot down two inferi as they charged toward them. The spells of the Death Eaters grew closer as they began to close in on them, and Hermione threw desperate spells back even as she ran to Malfoy, trying to pull him away. Only she caught the movement as Bellatrix's wand zipped through the air and toward her barely outstretched fingers. Malfoy's deadly stare was fixated upon her, his eyes still unwavering.

She barrelled into him, knocking him over and breaking the spell just as Bellatrix's fingers closed around her wand. Malfoy's eyes were as wild as his aunt's as they met Hermione's. He snarled at her and made to throw her off, the moment pulling them both out of range as Bellatrix sent a flash of deadly green light toward them.

Malfoy's cry of rage was haunting. "Avada—"

Before he could finish uttering the spell, Hermione wrapped herself around him and Apparated them away.

**X**

When they landed, it was upon the bed. He was perched atop her, looking at their surroundings. His head whipped back and forth, taking in the room. When he turned back to her, his face was contorted with rage.

" _What the fuck?!"_ His bellow rattled her, sending her heart racing as she tried to meet his look with an unwavering one of her own.

"It was too much of a risk. We couldn't—"

"Fuck you!" His hands slammed down on either side of her, his arms caged around her. The light made glaring what has previously been only hinted at under the cloak of night. Every muscle strained against his flushed skin. His eyes were wide and wild as he bore down over her. He looked every bit as manic as Bellatrix had, and in that moment it terrified her.

"Draco." She laid her hands against the tight muscles of his chest.

" _Don't."_

The word was spat with such hate that she wanted to recoil. Still, her hands stayed steady upon his chest. He was a serpent tensed to strike; her gentle and unmoving hands on his chest the only thing keeping him at bay. His teeth were bared as he continued to glare down at her, and she wondered if he would strike.

He got off of the bed in a movement so quick and graceful that she blinked before turning to where he now stood in the center of the room, his mask of rage unmoved. "You are a _fool,"_ he said through tightly clenched teeth.

"I am no fool." She stood and faced him, ignoring the way his towering frame loomed over hers. "She would have killed you before you managed anything—"

"I ALMOST HAD HER!" This time, his words truly felt as though they had rattled the room. The sound caused goosebumps to raise along her skin.

"We couldn't do it, it was too risky—"

"Risky?! What poses a true risk is her roaming free. You have no idea what she's done—"

The elastic of tension that was stretched taut in her stomach snapped. "I was there! I was there when she killed Sirius, I saw her on the night— the night—"

"Say it, Granger." His eyes glimmered with a strangely manic glee, undercut with a fury that somehow seemed to run even deeper the longer they argued.

"The night Snape killed Dumbledore."

He spat out a humorless laugh. "Not that."

She suddenly felt so small under the onslaught of memories that she'd tried to bury, sweeping the shattered pieces of her innocence into the back of her mind. "The night you— the night you tried…"

"The night I tried to kill him," his voice was low but venomous. "I implore you not to forget who _I_ am. Who _she_ made me into."

She couldn't stop her lip from quivering. "That's not you," she said. "It's not—"

His haunting smirk grew even wider. "Oh, but it is." He stepped closer until they were but a hair's breadth away. "We have been doing little but researching Horcruxes and arriving at the scenes of mass murders too damn late. We've done this while the ones we're fighting this war to protect are out there enduring and dying. And _you_ — you stopped me from doing the one thing that could truly change the tide of this war."

He caught her by the chin, forcing her to look up at him as she tried to look away. "I can feel your guilt. I hope it suffocates you."

He slammed the door behind him as he left, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, alone.

**X**

It occurred to her while she was making tea.

She was standing in the darkened kitchen, lit only by the soft moonlight that filtered in through the kitchen window. She'd spent several fitful hours laying awake in bed. Her mind was plagued with images of a fiery dragon and the wild, evil look on Bellatrix's face as she'd raised her wand. She'd tiptoed past where she suspected Malfoy still lay awake despite his figure being a stiff and unmoving shadow in the darkness. She'd tried and failed to stop the images of what had transpired from assaulting her mind every time she closed her eyes—

Her heart stopped.

When it restarted, it was a stuttered staccato. The sound of her mug shattering on the ground was but a distant stir over the whooshing noise that crashed in her ears. She sucked in sharp, shallow breaths that did nothing to quell the tightness in her chest. She pressed a hand against it, pressing even as the pain sharpened. Her mind was assaulted with images that played in a sickening loop, folding closer together with each repeat. Dead bodies littering the streets. Inferi. The all-consuming rage that twisted Bellatrix's features as she'd tried to kill her.

Horcruxes.

She stumbled across the room, ignoring the pain that flared as her bare feet hit the shards of her shattered mug. _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ shone to her like a beacon, taunting her. Chills never failed to pass through her even when her fingers merely ghosted over the spine of the book. This time she ignored it, snatching it off of the shelf without a thought of the cold that settled upon her heart as she did. She ripped it open to the page she'd poured over countless times, her blood running cold as she let the words she'd long since memorized sink in.

" _Horcruxes,"_ it read, " _are the darkest of all arts, reserved only to the foulest of beings who reserve no affection for what tethers us to humanity_."

"Granger!" Malfoy's voice cut through the pounding in her head. She snapped her wide eyes to his, her mouth opening and closing uselessly as she felt the chills of the revelation crawling up her spine.

When she finally found the words to speak, her voice held a desperate edge. "Horcruxes—Bellatrix— she's making Horcruxes, isn't she?"


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to RESimon and Jamethiel for their beta work.

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

The effect of the words on Malfoy was instantaneous.

She watched as his world tilted on its axis and his body froze mid-movement. Gone was the flush of anger that had been there only moments before. It was replaced by a pallor more ghostly than his natural skin tone, almost akin to a corpse. Hermione wasn't certain that something  _hadn't_  died within him.

Instinctively, she reached out to touch him. She was stopped by the way her own limbs still trembled, her movements stunted with shock. "If she is, then tonight we—"

"We likely destroyed one." His voice was hollow but steady.

They stood in silence. Her mind was assaulted with images of the beautiful property burning to the ground under the assault of the blazing dragon.

"We have to—" she cut off with a pained yelp as she tried to take a step forward. She stifled a shriek when Malfoy scooped her up wordlessly and carried her over to the dining table. He dropped her down upon it without ceremony before he snatched up her foot. A wave of her hand had them bathed in light and when she looked around them, she gasped. The ground had a mix of white shards and her bloody footprints leading to the desk. Malfoy was inspecting her bloodied feet. His expression was carefully blank as he siphoned out the shards, sending them to join the neat pile he'd already made of the mess on the floor.

"Do you think she— did she recognize your voi—"

His hair was still charmed bright red, and at some point he'd added a smattering of freckles to the glamour. "No." Malfoy's voice was cold and devoid of any emotion. She imagined him having spent their moments of silence folding away all that her realization had brought forth, leaving naught but an empty slate.

Her hand strayed to the long braid she wore, feeling remnants of the sticky substance they'd been assaulted with earlier still smeared in it. To Bellatrix, they'd likely appeared as naught but the nameless Order members that had been tracking them. Perhaps she'd even suspected that Malfoy was a Weasley—

She forced the thought down, folding it deeper into her mind until she relaxed the way she'd been biting down on her lip. She'd already drawn blood and when she touched two fingers to the wound, they came back smeared crimson.

He worked in silence. The shocks of pain as the healing spells dug deep barely registered to her as she sipped methodically from a blood replenishing potion, staring blankly off at nothing in particular.

When she broke the silence, her voice was small. "Dumbledore. He knew everything. He planned this, all of it from the beginning. From the time he visited your mother last summer, maybe even from before then…" Horcruxes. Bellatrix. Their marriage.

"What will we do?" she asked him in a whisper.

His lips were drawn tight, and she could see his entire form trembling.

"Malfoy." She reached out to touch his arm.

Her fingertips had only barely made contact when he pulled away. Hermione inhaled sharply as she finally looked at him.

He was covered in blood.

His torso was smeared in crude, wet handprints while his hands themselves were slick with her blood. He didn't seem aware of it, and he finished sealing the last of her wounds even as he continued to tremble.

"Draco," she said again, reaching out to stop him. This time she moved quickly enough to grasp at his shoulder. "Draco, please."

He did not move away, nor did he shun her. His jaw was tight as he looked away from her, his teeth gritted. She stepped down off the table and to her knees before him. "Draco," she cupped his cheeks, "look at me."

Slowly, gently, she wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself into him. He was nearly completely rigid, save for the constant tremble of his limbs. His rigidity did not fade the longer she held him, but she did not let go of him regardless. They were silent, and her arms stayed wrapped tightly around him as she yearned to do something —  _anything_ — she could for him.

"Draco," she said, pulling back enough to look at him. His face was still turned away from her, and he gave not even a twitch in response. "Draco— come with me. Please." Her hands were as gentle as her voice as she coaxed him to stand.

She was surprised when he acquiesced. He stood stiffly, and the tremble did not leave his limbs. She felt it as she took one of his hands in her own, squeezing tighter for a moment before she tugged him forward. He let her pull him all the way to the bathroom. Under the bright bathroom light, the blood smeared all over him looked all the more gruesome.

She let go of his hand and traced gentle fingers over his chest, watching him carefully as she moved. "I'm going to clean you, alright?" Her voice was as gentle as his had been when he'd once said the same words to her.

His nod was nearly imperceptible. His breaths were shallow as he kept his eyes trained on where her fingers lingered on his chest.

"I'm going to take off your clothes," she said, her fingertips nearly sticking to where his blood-soaked shirt clung to his abdomen.

Another barely-there nod. She vanished his clothing a moment later before starting the shower with a flick of her wand. She stripped herself quickly as the room began to fill with steam and was soon guiding him into the bath before her.

She lathered a flannel and began running it over his skin. The water that flowed around their feet turned pink as she washed him. The smooth and unmarred surface meant so much more now that she knew what Bellatrix had truly done to him. She wondered how many times he'd been maimed and forced to heal himself until it had returned to unmarred perfection.

When she moved to clean his face, she paused as she found him looking at her. Although his mind was still shuttered, the pain that swam in his silver-grey eyes was unmistakable.

It broke her heart.

She let the flannel slip from between her fingers. She raised a hand to his cheek and cupped it gently. He shuddered at the contact, the movement rippling through his entire form as though she'd drawn out the emotion and absorbed some of it into herself. Water cascaded into her face and blurred her vision as she looked up at him, but it did not stop her from stretching until she could wrap her arms around his neck and pull him close.

His breaths were harsh as he buried his face in her neck and pulled her closer, heaving shuddering breaths into her skin. She did not let herself question whether the wetness she felt on her skin was entirely from the water. Instead, she held him as tightly as she could.  _Take,_  she wanted to whisper,  _take what you need._

" _Draco,"_  she said instead.

He pulled back and leaned down until his forehead touched hers. His eyes were still tightly shut and his lips were thinned into a hard line. Before she could stop herself, she found herself smoothing a thumb over his lips. They relaxed instantly. The fullness of them under her touch was so soft it was almost striking. She lifted her other hand and traced it from his forehead to his cheek, watching the tension bleed from his features as he relaxed into her touch. He exhaled slowly and his warm breath fanned over her thumb.

He opened his eyes then. She felt caught in them as she met them. It had been long — so,  _so_ long — since she'd last seen emotion as raw as what now shone in them. The torture, the anger, the heartbreak she'd only caught trickles of over the months were laid bare for her. The nakedness that shone in them went beyond their physical nakedness, and the sight of it made her heart clench. Before her stood a broken man, and in that moment she knew that she would do whatever she could to take away even the slightest pressure of that pain.

Water continued to cascade down around them, soaking their hair and dripping into their eyes. Still, neither looked away. She let her hands drop to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of it under his heavy breaths. He lifted his hands until he cupped her cheeks. His thumbs were gentle as they traced over her cheeks, and his eyes never left hers.

She leaned into his caress and let her eyes flutter shut. She tilted her head until her lips met the skin of his palm. She placed the gentlest of kisses there, and when she spoke her next words they were but a breath against his skin: "Whatever you want. Whatever you need."

His lips caught hers only half a beat later. His lips mashed hard against hers, their teeth nearly smashing together in his desperation. She met his kiss with returned fervor. Her arms snaked around his neck as he pulled her closer until she could feel every inch of his body under hers. He was not gentle — she hadn't asked for it. She wanted only for him to take what he needed, and she let him do so without resistance. A part of her needed this, too — a rough, desperate release of all the tension they'd let build within them until it burst into a maelstrom of tension that rained down upon them as surely as the water that still beat against their skin.

When she felt a telltale hardness against her thigh, she only held him tighter.  _Whatever you want. Whatever you need._ She let him move her until her back was against the tile and her legs were wrapped around his waist. His breaths were ragged as he slid inside of her with a single thrust. She gasped into his skin, letting her moans tumble free.

His thrusts were propelled by a desperate need. She felt trickles of it slip from behind his fortified mind while she let her own emotions wrap around them. When her release crept up and crashed over her, she managed to gasp out only one word—

" _Draco."_

**X**

He came to her every night.

Sometimes, he would slip between the sheets without a word, his breath hot against her neck as he slid a hand between her legs. Other times she would already be sitting up, waiting for him. Often, he would find her during the day, placing a hand on her hip as he waited for a gesture of acquiesce before he would take her wherever they were. She never closed the door, and he never stopped coming. He was neither rough nor gentle, and every time he would take her felt more desperate than the last.

He never stayed, either.

Each time he would slip out of the bed and quietly make his way back to the sofa, the emptiness she felt radiated further than between her legs. On this particular night, she sat up and gathered the sheets around herself, watching him pull on his bottoms.

He was already moving to walk away when she mustered the courage to call his name. Even then, her voice was small. "Draco." She scooted to the end of the bed until she could place a hand on his shoulder.

He paused, his shoulder tense under her touch.

She swallowed, then started again. "Draco, I—" she faltered. She didn't know what she truly wanted, only that it was centered on how tense he was under her touch. She didn't need him to stay, but she needed  _something_ —

She was surprised when his hand closed over hers. He was gentle as he took her hand and set it back at her side. His hand lingered on hers for a moment before he stood.

"Goodnight, Granger."

For the first time, he left the door open as he left.

**X**

Hermione had managed only to mumble a contraceptive charm and roll over to sleep when she caught candlelight illuminating the open doorway. She pulled on her dressing gown and went outside to find him perched at the desk, staring hard at the open book in front of him. She knew that it was Secrets of the Darkest Art before she approached. It had stayed open on the same page since the night she'd made their discovery. A month, he'd said. A month would be long enough for Bellatrix to ensure that the rest of her Horcruxes were safe and that the attack had been isolated and unrelated. Her ego, he'd assured her, would outweigh any lingering suspicion.

"Draco?"

He looked up when she called his name. "Go back to sleep."

She ignored him and approached, scanning his notes over his shoulder. "Lestrange Manor..." she read before stopping. She swallowed as she felt a sense of dread crawling up her chest.

He gave a short nod. "It's likely that it's…" he trailed off, and she caught a glimmer in his eye before his mask folded back into place, "I think I know what it is."

She nodded, looking at the calendar that hung on the wall beside the map. Thirty-two days had already passed. For a fleeting moment, she wished that she could coax him back into bed and lose themselves in  _anything_  else for another month. Another year, even.

"Tomorrow?" she said instead.

His eyes met hers for a long beat before he spoke. Despite her fortified mind, she knew he could see the fear she felt written plainly across her features.

"Tomorrow," he said.

**Author's Note:**

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